Please Bail Out Bailey!
by SideshowJazz1
Summary: Set 2 years before TDI, first in the Juvie Bird trilogy. Fourteen-year-old Bailey Young is sentenced to 6 months in juvie. Once there, she meets two guys - a punk who's there for the third time and seems like a lot of fun...and a guy who seems to have taken an interest in her...Mal/OC, but be warned, in my story, Mal can't love. Please review! Cover image by Sideshow Cellophane 26.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I can't get Mal out of my mind. The thing is, there's a lot of fanfics on here pairing him with Zoey. I am a firm Zoke shipper and refuse to ship Zoey with any of Mike's alternate personalities...although, to be honest, I'm a devoted Aleheather shipper too and I don't mind pairing up an OC with Alejandro...but I digress. However, I have no problem with giving Mal a relationship – in fact, I totally ship Mal/Scarlett, but that's not what this story is about. I need to explain, that I don't see Mal as being able to develop genuine affection and love for anyone. He's not a person – he's a personality that was written to be pure evil and nothing more. I see him as a guy who can channel his sadism, lust, and desire for power into a relationship, and that's what the fic will centre around.**

 **Plot: Bailey Young is a fourteen-year-old girl with an addiction to vandalism. When she is sent to a mixed-gender juvenile detention centre, she meets two boys – a punk who's a lot of fun to be around, and a dark mysterious guy who seems to be stalking her...**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing from Total Drama. Fresh TV, Cake Entertainment, whatever – they own it, not me, so don't sue. Oh, and I DO own Bailey. BTW, there will be more than two TD characters in here, and one of them...I know she probably didn't go to juvie, just imagine she went a little bit crazy earlier in her life and pleaded guilty of assault.**

"Go away! I can't stand to look at you! I don't think I'll ever be able to look at you again, you little..."

"Fine, I'm going! You'd think I could do something you did to your ears several times over."

"Don't talk to me like that, you worthless little girl! You're still my flesh, and you tainted it!"

I slammed the door on her words, stalking out of the apartment and stepping into the elevator, spray can hidden under my hoodie. I admired myself in the reflection of the mirror in there. Honestly, so much drama over a little nose piercing with a sparkly stone. It looks good, it doesn't hurt that much any more, and it was my money. But then, what did I expect? Everyone reacted the same way when I dyed my hair black and had it cut to just below my chin. And the time that I refused to wear little girl clothes and wore a black sequinned top with one sleeve and black skinny jeans out. What, did they expect me to be happy with looking like a mousey little schoolgirl forever?

I tried not to care about it. I really did. But what was I supposed to do? Not care that my own parents threw personal and painful insults at me every time I did something I felt like doing to my appearance? That wasn't the worst part, though. As they did that, my two younger sisters, Sophie and Lucy, would just watch, pleased that it wasn't them. So I tried not to be at home. Otherwise, I'd just get in the way.

Yeah, yeah, I know, I haven't explained who I am. Bailey Young, age fourteen, brown-eyed, black-haired, hailing from the closest Ontario has to ghettoes with apartment buildings. But I do have a secret identity. I'm also the Queen of Graffiti Art, spray-painting the neighbourhood with whatever I feel like. And right now, I felt frustrated and angry that my family wouldn't just accept that maybe the synthetic diamond on my nose suited me, and that they'd get used to it.

I decided that I'd paint the back of our apartment building – it was easy. Of course, I'd been there, done that several times, but there was still a few metres just begging to be filled.

I shook my spray can and sprayed a sentence in shocking neon pink: _Voldemort likes to touch fourteen-year-old boys._ I'd seen the quote on the internet and wanted to write it somewhere. Then I tagged it with a cherry, because that was my middle name – Cherry. This was all routine stuff for me, things I did regularly. It was one of my least offensive spray-painted sentences yet, in fact. No one had confronted me about it, so I assumed no one knew it was me. And it was fun, so I kept doing it, even if it wasn't exactly the most lawful hobby.

As for school...well, I had a reputation. The school went up from kindergarten to twelfth grade, so most of us had known each other since we were five years old. I hung out with a bunch of guys, but I got the sense that all of them were a little scared of me. Understandable. I was smaller and skinnier than all of them, but back in third grade, I saw a couple of them beating up on some kindergartener. So I jumped on one of them and started beating on him. I wasn't that strong, but he was so surprised that I knocked him down.

When I realized that I had scared them and won a fight, I kept to the same tactic. If anyone beat up on someone who didn't deserve it, I'd use the element of surprise and a tiny bit of strength to attack them. I was so small and looked so non-threatening, they never saw it coming. Now, my new piercing, dyed hair and black clothes made me look threatening, but by that time, people knew not to mess with me.

I didn't really have a social life outside school. I spent every hour trying to avoid my family – if my parents weren't yelling at me, seven-year-old Sophie would be whining at me to play with her, or I would be chasing down Lucy, who was twelve and kept borrowing my makeup without asking and not giving it back. It wasn't that she forgot. I could ask her to give it back and she'd make a point of hoarding it away somewhere I didn't know about and giving me a smirk that totally said "It's mine now, ha-ha."

And then, the day came. The day that changed everything. I was outside, wandering around, as usual, my lighter in my pocket (no paint can this time, I didn't have my hoodie on, just my sequinned top and black jeans). Thing was, it was summer by that time, and I'd just finished eighth grade. I was turning fifteen next January, but it was just at the start of July right now. So I went out, and bought a few fireworks from the nearby convenience store. Mainly rockets, but some other stuff, too. It was early evening, and the sky was already darkening, presumably ready to rain before it got properly, so if I was going to do this, I'd have to do it fast.

As a warm-up, I lit a sparkler, writing the words "screw you all" in the air. Then, I ran behind the back of the buildings and found the trash cans.

One by one, I carefully emptied the contents of most of them into one can, that overflowed so much that about half the trash ended up on the ground. Whatever. Who cared? I wasn't picking that stuff up. Ugh, there was even an obviously used condom in there. Ick.

I carefully placed a single rocket inside the other cans. Then I ran upstairs, sneaked into the apartment to grab a water bottle without being seen (and succeeded), then ran back down and lit each rocket, standing back.

Boy, was there an explosion! Even in the semi-dark sky, it was impressive. As it turned out, the fireworks were pretty harmless, and there was only one mini-fire that my water bottle could handle. Yeah, the trash cans looked kind of blackened and smoky, and two of them melted, but it was no big deal, not really, was it?

Apparently, the courts didn't agree. I'd been cautioned for graffiti a year ago (but I'd stopped only long enough for it to be forgotten, then became the mystery graffiti artist again), and this time, I was found out and done for vandalism, safety risks, and, according to them, I could've been done for arson if I hadn't pleaded guilty for what I had done and hadn't been seen with the water bottle in hand.

I was sentenced to six months in juvie.

 **Sorry, a rather slow first chapter. But hopefully you have some idea of Bailey and what she's like! Please review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Finally, we get to the good stuff! Thank you to Ali6132 (African-Canadian? I didn't realize I gave that impression, but now I think about it...yeah, she is – and I said more than two characters as in at least one more than Mal and Duncan), Sideshow Cellophane 26 (I guess...well, it's just that a lot of fics make Mal too nice, and I want to avoid that), the guest reviewer, and everyone who followed and favourited.**

The juvie I was staying in was mixed gender. The only thing guys and girls didn't do together was sleep. We also didn't have a uniform, thank goodness. I had to hand in my lighter, but apart from that, things seemed okay.

Apart from the people. I was shown to my room, which was basically...well...a cell. Usual stuff, bars, two beds either side, chained to the stone walls, a tiny window with bars across it, and my cellmate. The girl looked about my age, with red hair. She looked like a complete nerd, actually. You should've seen it. There was me, small, slim, with skinny black jeans and a sequinned top with only one sleeve, with short straight black hair. Then there was her, facing me with glasses, red hair tied into a bun, teacherish blouse and skirt, and a completely innocent air.

"Hello." she said in a shy but unafraid voice. "I suppose you're my new cellmate."

"Bailey." I said brusquely. "Hey."

The girl held out her hand formally. "I'm Scarlett." she said as I shook it firmly. "I like to think of myself as one of the saner ones in this institution."

"So, what you in for?" I asked. "What did you do? I did graffiti art and let off fireworks in trash cans. It was awesome!"

Scarlett looked a bit shocked at my bluntness, and said shyly, "Oh, it was nothing, really. I had a little argument with a boy at my school who'd been following me around, just to treat me like I was nothing. Things got physical, and I accidentally ended up putting him in the hospital. I dodged some of his attacks and my retaliation was more violent than I expected of myself." She tried to smile again. "I assure you, that is not my normal behaviour. Some of the tougher girls in here scare me. And a few of the boys. It's my first time in here, and I do not intend to come back after my time ends."

"Mine too." I said politely. "But seriously, scared? How scary can it be?"

"I'm not used to this kind of company." Scarlett admitted. "My usual colleagues consist of extra-curricular school clubs that I personally find stimulating." I looked at her blankly. "I hang out with other people my age who do everything they can to be top students."

"Oh." I said, feeling dumb. "So...how old _are_ you?"

"Thirteen. You?"

"I'm fourteen."

Scarlett smiled at me. "It's nice to have another person who's here for the first time." she said. "I should warn you, though, don't let anyone else know. The girls here like to haze first-timers who are inexperienced enough to let them know it's their first time." She gave a sigh.

"I'm guessing they did it to you?" I asked.

Scarlett sighed again. "They did. Or, at least, they tried to. They have a ritual – every new girl has to go up to one of the boys – any they pick out, and get a kiss from them within five minutes." She chuckled darkly. "I had to explain to them why I wouldn't do such a ridiculous thing. After a minute, they understood."

But I didn't have to tell anyone it was my first time. At lunch time, an Asian-Canadian girl with her hair dyed light brown approached me. "Hey, new girl." she said. "If you want your life to be easy here, go up to that guy-" she pointed over to a boy with a ton of piercings and a part of his hair spiked up into a green mohawk (although I could see most of his hair was black) "-and get him to kiss you. You've got five minutes."

I shrugged, sauntered up to the guy, and said "Hey. Some chick over there told me to kiss you sometime in the next five minutes."

To my surprise, the boy chuckled. "Crazy hazing rituals? I'm guessing you're new here." He read my expression, and shrugged. "Hey, I'm used to it. You're not the first new girl. But I guess that means I should give you the welcome that I'd give all hot chicks that approach me." And with that, he kissed me.

That was my first kiss. And it was nice. But that was about all. I didn't even know this boy's name.

I broke away and looked over at the girl who'd told me to do it. She grinned at me and then whispered something to one of the other girls.

I turned back to the boy. "I'm Bailey."

"Duncan." he answered. "So, a first-time offender, huh? You don't look like one." He openly looked me up and down.

I smirked. "Like what you see? Or are you just reassessing that statement? All I did was paint a few phrases and set off a few fireworks while melting a couple trash cans – you know, kid stuff. Not that I hadn't been cautioned for obscene graffiti before, but guess the fireworks did it."

Duncan grinned when I said that. "Wow. You're the first girl I've talked to here who acts like whatever she did was no big deal. Nice."

"So, how many times have you been in here? And how come?"

"My third time. Been about a month since I was last out, and I still have about six more months to go, like, days after I turn fifteen." He chuckled. "Like I'll be out for long. I can imagine I'll be back before I'm sixteen. Anyway, same as you, mostly. Kid stuff. Maybe I carved a few trees too. And I sold some of my dad's hair pieces on leashes. I think it was setting my school's tool shed on fire that got me in here this time, though."

"I'm fourteen too." I said, smiling. I liked this guy. "How'd you get caught? I should've probably chosen something quieter than fireworks."

"My parents are cops. They usually let me off on the little stuff – you know, stuff that doesn't hurt anyone – but they couldn't ignore the tool shed thing."

"Your parents are cops?" I exclaimed. "What a nightmare! And I thought _my_ parents were the worst at getting on my case all the time. I mean, saying I'm a devil child and that I look like a slut because of my hair, clothes and piercing isn't so bad, compared to having police parents."

"Not that you aren't hot, but anyway, that's nothing." Duncan said casually. "Practically everyone in my family is a cop."

I laughed, suddenly. "Something feels weird. I mean, if this was, like, in school or in a club or something, it would be normal. Instead, we're in basically child prison, and we're telling each other our life stories."

Duncan shrugged. "I don't know. Guess it's about time I found someone new to talk to. No one else is much fun to hang out with. See that guy over there?" He pointed out a boy with tan skin and dark hair, half of it falling into his face. "He's the only one who isn't afraid to do anything to extend his time, and he's psycho crazy. Most of the guys are either similar to him, or first-time wimps. You seem fun, though. Guess we could hang out again."

By the end of that day, I was pretty much settled. At least I'd made a new friend. The other girls were all treating me like one of them, and Scarlett wasn't as irritating as a cellmate could have been.

 **You can probably guess where I'm going. What do you think of me putting Scarlett in? I was originally only going to have two TD characters, but then, now I have one to represent each generation of characters! Please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**There's still one more person Bailey needs to meet, before we can get this chapter done. Thanks for reviewing, AvrilLavigneFan2001, queenoftrouble, Sideshow Cellophane 26, AliCat and Ali6132.**

I never slept well in a new place, and juvie was no exception. It didn't help that I was sharing the room with Scarlett. Of course I shared a room with Lucy at home, but I'd known her since I was born. It also didn't help that Scarlett, once she took her hair out of a bun and took her glasses off, had a slightly threatening look to her – her hair went insanely spiky, and framed her face in a way that made her look less nerdy...and much less innocent. I woke up about a million times that night, and I definitely wasn't ready for the day.

I knew for a fact that there were classes to go to, and things like that. Juvie wasn't that different from home, just colder, interpersonal, high-security, and with a super-early lights out. Kind of like boarding school with teenagers. There were younger and older prisoners, too, but everyone was divided by age in the dining hall, classes, and to a lesser extent, recreational time (basically just 11-down and 12-up). Every moment we weren't in our cells, we were encouraged to mix with the boys. I wasn't sure why – did they want us to start swapping life stories and ways to get away from the cops, or something? Or were the staff trying to set us up to date, was that it?

Personally, though, I didn't mind mixing with the boys. Although the girls were relatively friendly to me since I'd gained their respect by going through with their ritual ("Less than thirty seconds." the girl who told me what to do said. "Not bad!"), I was kind of glad that Duncan seemed interested in me (speaking platonically). I hadn't been sure until that morning though. When I got to the dining hall and he caught my eye across the room, then grinned and winked flirtatiously, I felt relieved that it seemed that our conversation really wasn't a one-off. I winked back and purposely didn't look at him again until the end of breakfast time.

When it got to classes, I took a seat at the back of the class, one from the corner. In the corner desk, I felt a presence, something that made even me feel a little worried. I slowly looked up to see the boy in the corner desk looking back at me.

I recognized him. It was the boy Duncan had pointed out to me the day before – a lean, tanned boy with spiky hair that obscured one of his eyes. Now that I was closer, I noticed the dark rings around his eyes (or at least the one I could see), and a look on his face that made me shiver inwardly. Me!

I felt awkward, having caught him looking at me, so I started up a conversation. "Hey." I said. "I'm Bailey."

"Fresh meat, huh?" the boy spoke. His voice was deep, deeper than I'd expected. "Tough break." He held out a hand. "I'm Mal."

I didn't shake his hand. Sure, I'd done that with Scarlett, but I couldn't. I just didn't know what it was, but Mal struck something in me that made me feel like there was something very wrong. After a few seconds, he got the message and let his hand fall.

I sighed. Maybe what Duncan had told me was getting to me. Mal seemed pretty sane. He didn't do anything during the class. Because all the fourteen-year-olds were together, Duncan was in that class, too, and he was the one that made the most trouble, not really concentrating and occasionally making a sarcastic comment. I also discovered that the reason he was in the front row was because of that. But it was just little stuff. "Kid stuff" as we called it.

When it got to lunch time, I hung out with Duncan again. He wasn't like my group at school, but then again, it was nice to have someone who wasn't at all afraid of me. He was, to be honest, smaller than a lot of the other guys, but muscular. When I asked him if he'd ever beaten up anyone, he simply said "Let's just say that the last guy who crossed me is lucky to not have crosses for eyes." Meaning those cartoon crosses that means a character is dead.

"Lame pun." I teased. "When was that?"

"Sixth grade. When did you last beat anyone up?"

I smirked smugly. "Haven't had to for awhile. Last time was fifth grade – since then, they know what it means to mess with me, so they don't do it."

Duncan surveyed me, unibrow raised. "A pipsqueak like you? How do you fight?"

"Let's just say that being little has given me an edge." I answered. "Why, you wanna challenge me?"

"Why not?" shrugged Duncan. "I promise I'll go easy on you."

I scowled. "Either don't hold back, or forget it."

We never did have that fight, actually. I kind of wish we had, but it was more fun verbally sparring.

After classes ended, we had recreation time. I hung out in one of the rooms, not sure what to do. Everyone else was doing something. A few guys were beating up on one of the younger kids, but I couldn't be bothered to go attack them.

"Hey. Bailey, right? Don't feel like doing anything?" A familiar boy joined me on one of the sofas.

I nodded at the mention of my name. "Hey, Mal. No, just can't be bothered to join anyone in anything." I looked him in the eye. "So...what you in for?"

Mal shrugged evasively. "Nothing much, really. I heard you talking to Duncan, so I know why you're here."

I shrugged back. "No one got hurt. I don't know why the cops needed to make such a big deal out of it. It was just a teeny fire which I took care of, and a few smoky melted cans."

Mal chuckled, a dark devious laugh that made me feel uncomfortable. "I would think you'd be arrested purely because that's such a boring crime. I prefer a little more chaos."

"Duncan told me that you do stuff that could extend your sentence in here." I said, tilting my head in confusion. "Why would you do that? It's so boring here."

"Boring? Oh, Bailey." Mal shook his head at me, looking amused. "So naive. You'll learn. Besides, as long as I'm around, chaos always follows."

 **So...that's Bailey's second day in juvie! What do you think? Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So...we've still got a lot to get through. Thank you for reviewing, queenoftrouble, Sideshow Cellophane 26 (yeah...just like she's evil...heh heh), TakeThePRNDL, Sanity is for Suckers and Ali6132.**

Mal was totally wrong. Juvie was mind-numbingly boring. I would've felt a little better if I had a more interesting cellmate, but as it was, I was stuck with Scarlett. She was really, really boring. Well, or if she wasn't, she was saying something where I could only understand about twenty percent of it. And if, by any chance, she wasn't either of those, she would be talking about something that made her sound incredibly sadistic. I thought they kept a closer eye on people done for assault/manslaughter/murder in these kinds of places!

At least having someone to hang out with made me a little less bored. Duncan wasn't the type of guy I'd usually hang out with – since most guys I hung out with were intimidated by me – but he was fun and that was what mattered. And because he was used to juvie, he seemed to find it really funny when I pointed out something that I hadn't expected. We started swapping pranks and rule-breaking stories, which were usually interesting. Sure, he wasn't really my type of guy, but to be honest, it was better. I liked having someone to be around who wasn't afraid to tease me or laugh at stuff that happened to me. I didn't even bother getting to know the other guys, because having one around was enough for me.

I got along with the other girls fine, but didn't really make friends with any of them. There was a girl in there for a short time who was basically Scarlett gone nuts, but she was transferred somewhere else within a few days, so I never actually got to speak to her.

The only other person I really ever said anything to was Mal, and he wasn't even around much. I didn't even know much about him. No one knew why he was in juvie – all they knew was that he was Dangerous with a capital D.

"I heard somewhere he has some kind of mental disorder," Duncan told me, "But that's not what makes him dangerous. He pretty much runs the place. That's why I stay away from him."

I swear, I didn't talk to Mal because I wanted to. But just occasionally, like every couple of days, he'd come up to me, smirk and start up a conversation. And all the desks in class were taken up, so I had to sit next to him every day. It wasn't easy to avoid him. So far, he hadn't done anything particularly dangerous that I could tell, but after I observed a little bit, I noticed that people did stay away from him.

"Is that why you talk to me?" I asked one day. "Because most people don't talk to you?"

"Is it so hard to believe I find you interesting?" Mal said casually. "And cute. I mean, you're the first girl I've met who got a nose piercing when you're that young."

"That's all?" I scoffed.

"And you're not all repentant like some of the other girls. You'd let off the fireworks again if you had a chance, wouldn't you? Not that it's a major crime."

"Of course I would! It was fun."

Mal's smirk widened. "You know, if you wanted to have some _real_ fun, I'd be happy to help."

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean by 'fun'?"

Mal paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. Finally, his default expression (that smirk) returned. "Here, hold out your hand for a moment."

"Why?" I asked warily.

"You asked me what I meant by fun. I'm showing you. Go on."

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have done it. Sure, I didn't know what Mal was going to do, but look, I had been told he was bad news. So maybe what he did next shouldn't have been so surprising.

When I held out my hand, Mal grasped it firmly. His thumb rubbed circles on my palm, a surprisingly soothing gesture. I didn't understand what was fun about this, but I relaxed.

Big mistake. Seconds later, Mal's hand twisted mine roughly and suddenly, my wrist hung at an odd angle. It looked bruised, and pain shot through me. I knew immediately what had happened.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" I shrieked (I know, fourteen, I probably shouldn't be using that phrase but, whatever, screw it). "You _broke_ my wrist? What for?"

"For fun." Mal said nonchalantly. "You asked." He began whistling a tune that I recognized as _In The Hall of The Mountain King._

" _This_ is your kind of fun?" I screamed. "I can't believe you! You know I'm going to have to get one of the staff to take me to hospital now?"

"Oh, yeah." Mal said. "About that..." He suddenly pulled me close and leant down to my ear, whispering "Tell anyone else and I'll break both your arms too." Then he walked away, still whistling. I didn't know if he really intended to go through with that threat, but I wasn't willing to test it out.

When I went to one of the staff to ask them to take me to the emergency room, they of course asked me what had happened to my wrist. I didn't breathe a word about Mal, though I wanted to. I was too scared. It was a simple clean break, as it turned out, but I'd still need a cast for the next six weeks.

When I got back, I went straight to my room. Scarlett was already there, and she did a double take when she saw my wrist wrapped up. "What did you do to yourself, Bailey?" she asked.

"I didn't do it to myself. He didn't want me to tell on him, but I guess I could explain it." I said quietly. "Promise not to tell?"

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at me. "Someone did this to you? Shouldn't you be telling the staff?"

I folded my arms. "Look, if I tell you, and you tell the staff, I'll tell them you're lying anyway. I might even say you're trying to cover up because you did it. Either you keep it quiet, or you get punished."

Scarlett's eyes flashed for a moment behind her glasses, but she said "All right. I promise I won't tell. What happened?"

I spilled the story to her. "And then he said he'd break my arms if I told anyone." I finished. "I believed him. He said he broke my wrist just for fun, so he'd obviously love an excuse to break something else."

"I don't find him doing that incredibly shocking, to be honest." Scarlett mused. "What puzzles me is why he chose to hurt you."

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

"I've been interested in Psychology for years." Scarlett explained. "And I've been interested in Mal, since I've discovered some interesting psychological traumas that I believe causes his rather sadistic nature. What I don't understand is why he targeted you specifically. Mal's chosen targets would more likely be those who can match up to him in intelligence and sadism. You're here over simple vandalism, not assault. He can't possibly see you as a threat."

I scowled and folded my arms. "Keep talking, Scarlett, and _you'll_ be the one seeing me as a threat."

"I'm not saying that you aren't." Scarlett said calmly. "But from what I've gathered, that is not the way Mal's mind works. For whatever reason, Mal has taken an interest in you. I'd just like to be able to figure out why."

Whatever. I should probably have listened to everyone else. I'd just have to keep away from Mal for the rest of my time here.

 **I envisioned Mal as making trouble for no reason because...that just seems to be in his nature. And if he ever did take an interest in a girl, I think he would like to experiment with her pain threshold.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Let's keep going! Thank you for reviewing, Starburst278, queenoftrouble, Ali6132, Abbiegal, Sideshow Cellophane 26 (why do I get the feeling you can read my mind?) and Katie Grimm.**

Keeping away from Mal was easier said than done. I hadn't exactly gone out of my way to be around him before, but I couldn't figure out a way to tell him to leave me alone. I was scared that if I was too blunt, he'd do worse than breaking my wrist. For the whole of the next week, he kept trying to catch my eye, or talk to me.

Of course, I got more questions about the cast, but the only other person I trusted the real story with was Duncan. I knew that he took Mal seriously, and that he wouldn't tell.

"I did warn you." he reminded me. "Mostly, he picks out a victim, and waits for them to break. And if he did that, it sounds like he's picked you. But smart move not to tell anyone else – he wasn't kidding. He looks like a skinny loser, but he would have no qualms or difficulties in breaking anything else."

"What happened last time?" I couldn't help asking.

"Well...I'm not sure exactly." Duncan admitted. "It was a guy, I think – Mal just used him as a punching bag most of the time, and the guy was such a wimp. He disappeared. Some people say that Mal killed him – others say he just got moved. Personally, I think he begged the staff to move him so Mal wouldn't kill him in the end."

I shivered. "So do you think...he'd kill me?" I asked.

Duncan regarded me, then shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. You're a different case, being a girl. If I was just like Mal, I wouldn't pass up a hot babe by ending things for her."

I giggled. "You think I'm hot?"

"Duh." Duncan said. "I wouldn't have bothered hanging out with you otherwise. Just cause I don't want to date you...it's no fun, dating someone who is enough like me to be friends. I kind of like girls who'll argue with me."

"Found any?" I teased.

"Tons. Only dated a couple, though."

I gave a sigh. "Anyway, back to what I was saying. If Mal wouldn't kill me, what would he do?" Duncan gave me a _don't you get it_ look, and I sighed. "I know, I know. I just hoped you'd tell me otherwise."

"I don't sugarcoat stuff." Duncan said straight out. "Why would I? And I don't lie, either. Mal may be the same age as us, but he's psycho enough to do it. I heard one of the reasons he got locked up was on a charge of torturing girls – I don't know how he did it, but...well, watch out."

In a cruel twist of fate, the second I was alone that day during recreation, Mal approached me properly. I'd been trying to avoid being alone by sticking close to the other girls or Duncan, but this time, none of them were around. In fact, the only other people in the room – a couple of boys that were about twelve – were too absorbed in some computer game they were both playing to notice anything else. I was on the sofa, trying to chill, but the minute Mal joined me, I went tense.

"So," Mal said with his trademark smirk. "Any room left to sign your cast?" He pulled a Sharpie out of his jeans pocket. People had already signed my cast – most of the girls had. Scarlett hadn't wanted to, but when I persuaded her, she'd sighed and written her name in smooth calligraphy. Duncan had just drawn a skull – he'd told me he was into skull decoration, but then I liked them, too. Just preferred them to be something other than white.

"Why would you want to sign it?" I asked, shifting defensively. "Aren't you proud enough of yourself to be able to have the credit for the cast itself?"

"Well, if you won't let me sign this one, I guess you'll just have to get another one that I can sign..." Mal threatened. I sighed and held out my wrist, and he wrote surprisingly lightly, so it didn't press down on my wrist too much.

As he signed, I asked a question. "Why, Mal? Why did you break my wrist? There's got to be a reason beyond fun. And why me? It's not like I'm a threat to you."

Mal shrugged. "Because I was bored? Because it was something to do? Nah, it was...I was testing you."

I frowned. "How does _testing_ translate into fracturing something?"

"That was the test." Mal replied seriously. "To see how you would react. I wanted to see if you'd tell anyone after I specifically warned you not to. I'm not stupid – I see the way your cellmate always looks at me, and I saw you whispering something to Duncan. And I'm impressed."

I stared at him. "I-Impressed?"

"Yes. You didn't tell anyone who could do anything about it, and those you did tell don't say a word." Mal said. "So it looks as if I won't have to break your arms. Which is good – I doubt even I could have gotten around the staff on that one." He leaned back on the sofa casually. "I like you, Bailey, I figured out enough from that little test to know that. You're not just a tough exterior, for one thing – you actually do have some fight in you. But you don't have too much. This'll be fun."

I didn't like the way he was looking at me, and stood up to go. Lightning fast, the took hold of my good wrist – tightly, but not quite painfully. "You're not going yet." he said, quietly, but firmly. "I'm not finished. Sit down." I didn't move. "Oh, well, if you _want_ me to break the other one..." I sat back down, and Mal chuckled, letting go of my wrist.

"What are you talking about?" I asked finally. "What do you mean, fun?"

"You." Mal said simply. "I get bored easily, so I pick my playthings carefully."

I couldn't believe what he was saying. " _Plaything?_ You – I can't believe – you're calling me a-"

"What? I didn't mean it like that." Mal said. "I don't do well alone. So I've decided you're going to be around me more from now on. You can go around with whoever you want, but when I want you, you come to me, understand?" I nodded, too scared to disagree. "Good girl – you know when not to argue. And just in case you change your mind later on..." he again whispered the words in my ear. "Disobey me and you'll be lucky to see the outside of these walls again...at least, _alive._ And don't think I won't do it."

"And..." I paused. "What about when I've finished doing time?"

"I'll find someone else." Mal shrugged. "That or I'll be out by then. How long I'll be here for is undetermined."

"How come?" I asked, interested. If only I'd known.

Mal's eyes darkened, and I took a step away, worried. He looked like he was about to do something, but then held back. "You're lucky I like you." he muttered, before stalking out of the room.

What had I done?

 **For those of you who haven't guessed, Mal is undergoing treatment at the moment, since they're trying to find a way to put Mike back in control. But in the meantime, he's in juvie because they believe he's too dangerous to be free, but still needs to be around people his age. Mal has been identified by the marks around his eyes, so he knows that he can't pretend to be Mike because he can't change that. Just thought I'd clear that up for you all. But once Mike is back in control and deemed mentally stable enough that Mal can't get through, he'll be able to go home.**


	6. Chapter 6

**So what's Bailey going to do now? Thanks for reviewing, Aristicus, berkbar740, Ali6132 and queenoftrouble.**

I didn't know what was going to happen next. Heck, I didn't know why Mal had chosen to "test" me, although he'd explained why I'd "passed". Or had I? He said he liked me, but was that really a pass?

Two more weeks and a month had passed. Still five more months until I was allowed out. But in those two weeks, I'd learned a lot about what I'd gotten myself into.

I still did what I'd been doing in those weeks – going to classes (although the summer holidays had begun so our days were mostly recreation and mandatory exercise), occasionally talking to the girls in my group, hanging around with Duncan...all that stuff. In fact, Duncan and I started a kind of "partners in crime" friendship and started inventing as many ways to cause trouble as possible without extending our sentences. It was so much fun. We pranked some of the more serious or wimpy guys and girls, and if someone got on our nerves, some of their clothes would 'mysteriously' disappear when they were in the showers, or they'd end up spilling something all over themselves at mealtimes. We got closer as it happened.

But, as Mal said, I had to spend more time with him than I'd have liked. It wasn't every day, but usually every two days, or two days in a row and one day when he would leave me alone.

Sometimes, it wasn't so bad. We'd just hang out like friends. On his good days, Mal was just as much fun to talk to as Duncan, if a bit more sadistic and twisted. But on his worst days, Mal would usually take out his mood on me. There were a few in-between days, but not many.

I remember the first day he'd been in a mood. He'd brought me to a small, dusty secluded room where hardly anyone else went, and closed the door (no locks – we needed the keys for that).

"T-shirt off. Now." Mal ordered flatly, no expression.

I held onto my T-shirt protectively. "Are you NUTS? I'm not taking anything off for you!"

Mal's expression didn't change. "Unless you want me to hurt that pretty face of yours, or break something else, you'll do it."

And in the end, reminded of what he was capable of, I did. I had to admit, I was surprised. He didn't even bother to look properly, which I was thankful for.

"What are you going to do?" I quavered. I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was impossible.

"I thought you were tougher than that!" Mal said impatiently. "I'm simply going to help you raise your pain threshold." And then he assaulted my upper arms and stomach, stratching, twisting, pinching and punching. "If you scream, you'll be wishing for death once I'm finished with you."

When he was finished, his eyes roamed over all the marks. Then he tossed my T-shirt at me. "Put it back on. Those'll be black and blue in a few hours, and they're for my eyes only. And yours, obviously, but you don't let anyone else see them, understand?"

"And if I don't do what you say, I'll never see the outside of this prison for as long as I live..." I parroted in a sarcastic voice.

"Huh." Mal raised his visible eyebrow. "That's good. You're not too compliant, I see. I like that. But I'm not afraid to follow through on that threat."

That wasn't the last time he beat me up, just because he felt like it. Within those two weeks, he did it four times. Every time, the day after he did it, he took me back to that room and ordered me to lift my top so he could look at the bruises and marks. He never hurt me badly enough that I needed medical attention, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, and it always showed. He'd smirk, and then say something about how beautiful it was.

I always had to be careful to undress in and out of pyjamas and day wear where no one could possibly see me. The showers weren't very private, so I had to go in and out early so no one would notice my multicoloured upper body. It didn't show so much the first couple of times, but after a bit, you could see my skin had a purple tinge to it, instead of its usual dark brown.

Things got worse. The fourth time that Mal was in a mood, he ordered me to take my black jeans off, too, and this time, he scratched my legs just so that they hurt, but he didn't draw blood. He also twisted my right ankle – not enough to break or even sprain it, but enough so that the pain would linger.

The fourth time was when things got weird. I never cried out while he hurt me. I'd whimpered a little the first time, but it got a little easier to bear every time he did it. The first three times, he did it mostly in silence. But every time, near the end, he would start whistling _In The Hall of The Mountain King,_ the same tune he'd whistled when he broke my wrist. I learned to listen, knowing that he'd stop soon.

But on the fourth day, he began talking as he hurt me. "You're a pretty girl, Bailey." he murmured, letting me get tense, waiting for him to land the first blow. "But I think you'd look prettier if I did...this." He pressed hard on the already-formed bruises, unbearably hard. He kept doing everything, hands abusing every inch of skin that my clothes would cover.

"It's too bad it doesn't show so much." he murmured quietly. "Your skin's too dark. Only the bruises show, not the red so much." He pinched one of my bruises, and I jumped. Mal chuckled.

"It hurts less than it did, the first time, doesn't it? That's the point of this. I'm not punishing you. I'm training you." I opened my mouth, but he interrupted me. "Speak while I'm doing this and I'll cut your tongue out. Just nod or shake your head to answer a question." His touch grew gentler, until he pressed hard again, rolling his knuckles over my already bruised stomach, and raking his nails down my legs.

"You'll learn to love the pain the more you take it." Mal whispered. "Just like I do. And that'll be when we can move on to the next stage."

Finally, he was done. "Here." he tossed me my clothes. "Put them back on." When I was dressed again, he did something undeniably strange. He suddenly put his arms around me, hugging me. "I'll talk to you again tomorrow, all right?"

I never understood why he'd hugged me.

 **What do you think? Good or bad? It's purely violence at the moment because I think, if Mal picked out a girl to be around, he'd start by either faking kindness, or hurting her. I chose the latter, since he's already shown Bailey his true colours. Please review! And also, one more thing for you guys – if you haven't already, listen to "Liar" by Emilie Autumn. It's a pretty good depiction of how I imagine Mal/Bailey, as their relationship develops. Lines like "I'm hurting you for your own good" and "Are you suffering, I want your suffering".**


	7. Chapter 7

**All right. We have a lot more to do! Thanks for reviewing, berkbar740, TakeThePRNDL, Ali6132, Sideshow Cellophane 26, queenoftrouble and Starburst278.**

It was Scarlett who discovered my bruises. I made the mistake of getting changed into my jammies in the cell, and she caught a glimpse. "Bailey, what was that?" she exclaimed.

"What?"

"Pull your top up."

I folded my arms. Being told to do that felt way too familiar, even though I knew Scarlett didn't mean any harm when she said it. "No way."

"Look, I know what I saw." Scarlett insisted. "And I have First Aid. You're bruised. Come on, let me help."

I crossed my arms. "I'm not bruised!"

But Scarlett wouldn't listen. When I refused, she pulled up part of my top herself and saw the grey-purple patches that were bruised. "These don't look ordinary." she said softly. "They look as if they've been bruised several times over frequently, recently." She looked at me. "Who's been doing this?"

I pulled my top down and snapped "Why do you care? Who says it wasn't me?"

"I know self-harm, and I know that's not it." Scarlett answered calmly. "Come on, Bailey, you can trust me with secrets. I won't tell."

It wasn't just that I wasn't supposed to tell her. I didn't want to appear weak. How could I tell Scarlett that I'd just let Mal do this, because he'd threatened to do worse if I didn't? And it was sort of true, what he'd said. The pain wasn't as harsh as before, and some of it was actually...kind of enjoyable. Like the kind of pain that you get while stretching, pain that feels good.

No matter how many times Scarlett asked, I refused to answer. She gave up after a while.

The next day, I found myself in the secluded room again. Luckily, although Mal had wanted me there, it seemed like this was one of his better days, because he didn't just call me there for his usual reason. "You want answers." he said matter-of-factly. "I can tell. And there's some things you should know."

I nodded. "Can I ask...why do you do this? You like hurting me, but you don't always do it."

Mal's smirk darkened. "I don't always do it because I don't want you to see it coming. I don't always feel like it, anyway. Although I have had to hold back on a few occasions. And I do it because I want you to learn to like it."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I like it?"

"Because I like you, doll face." Mal said. "And because I like to cause it. Things would be perfect. And I can tell – you don't mind it so much now. You don't love it yet, but if you give it a little more time, you will."  
I stared at him. "You're nuts! I keep saying that, and it's true. Why the HELL are you putting me through this? Don't say it's because you like me, because that can't be true."

Mal stepped as close to me as he could without touching me. "If I didn't like you," he said in his deep voice, "Would I do this?" And suddenly, his hands were clamped onto my shoulders, gripping them roughly, and his lips were on mine.

I had never been kissed that way before. Well, my first kiss had been on that first day with Duncan, but this was more different than I could have imagined. This kiss was very serious, and I could feel it. I wasn't sure whether to pull away or not. I didn't want this, but, as much as I hated to admit it, Mal was a _really_ good kisser. It was one of the roughest kisses I'd ever experienced, letting his teeth graze over my lips, but I couldn't help liking that.

Finally, he broke away. "Just a taste of what's to come." he muttered.

That comment angered me. I hadn't wanted to like the kiss, and I certainly didn't want anything else like that to happen again. Before I knew it, my hand had flown up and slapped him in the face. I realized what I'd done too late.

"Shit." I muttered under my breath. "I don't know what came over me – please don't hurt me!"

Mal didn't hurt me straight off. One hand curled around the side of my face, holding it in place. His other hand rested heavily on my shoulder. "You're lucky that I've decided to keep you around for awhile." he said darkly. "The last girl who slapped me only just made it home without an extended visit to the morgue." He chuckled. "You're still as fiesty as ever. I like it. But, much as I do, I _can't_ let that slap pass without at least a little punishment. And since I can't be bothered to hurt you properly today..." He suddenly leant down, and twisted my right ankle so hard that I couldn't walk on it.

"That should be a sprain." Mal told me. "Now go and get it looked at. And if you dare to mention it to anyone this time, I swear, I will finish what I started with that kiss earlier than either of us want. If you're lucky, I'll wait until you're about to leave, but all hopes are off if you so much as breathe a word of it. And since I know your cellmate grills you on these things...well, leave her to me."

I didn't want to think about what he meant by that. But I asked anyway. "What...what are you going to do to Scarlett?" I quavered.

"Tell her. She looks like she's easy to control with fear. She'll stop asking you questions once I'm done with her."

I think Duncan noticed that I was unusually quiet that evening, but he didn't ask any questions. I liked that about him – he didn't act too concerned about things, and I never had to worry about giving too much away, or watching what I said. That was what I didn't like about Scarlett – she kept asking questions. But Mal had obviously talked to her by the time I'd gotten my ankle looked at, and now had it bandaged and had crutches, because she didn't ask me any questions at all.

That evening, I asked her. "Why aren't you asking questions?" I asked. "Not that I don't like it, but you usually do."

Scarlett's tone was casual. "Oh, I figured you didn't want to talk about it." She paused. "And I already heard about what happened to your ankle. Mal made it clear he didn't want anyone else to know about it. So I got all the information I wanted about it from him."

I raised an eyebrow. "So you asked him a ton of questions? And he actually _answered_ them? He seems to enjoy being cryptic with me."

"I'm not you." Scarlett said simply. "Mal may be, frankly, a complete and utter psychopath, but he knows that it's unwise to annoy me."

I let a chuckle escape. "In that case, I guess I haven't annoyed you. What would happen if I did?"

Scarlett looked thoughtful. "It depends. But I'm not naive enough to do anything to someone while we're still in a juvenile detention centre. I want to be out of here exactly when my sentence ends. No more."

"Huh," I scoffed, "I guess that's why Mal has gotten away with breaking my wrist, spraining my ankle and giving me bruises over earlier bruises without any kind of punishment."

Scarlett shrugged. "Even if you did tell him, that wouldn't change. He's only ever going to leave if he starts doing better. I've been trying to find out everything about his mental state." She paused. Then she said the words that made me feel as if all hope was lost.

"I personally don't think he's ever going to make it out of here."

 **To be clear, Scarlett knows what's wrong with Mal, but she's just not telling Bailey because...well, she's kind of showing her sadistic side because she thinks Bailey's immature and annoying...but then, Scarlett IS super serious and focused. Hey, everyone, did you find Scarlett likable before the "Scarlett Fever" episode? I really, really liked her as a character, not just as a villain. That's NEVER happened to me before in TD. Hated Heather until World Tour, hated Alejandro for a while (not sure why I stopped), still don't like Justin, hating Scott on and off (saw All-Stars first), can't hate Mal because I count him as part of Mike, who I enjoy, hated Sugar, liked Scarlett. Oh, and the person I really DESPISE is Amy.**


	8. Chapter 8

**So...I guess it's time to continue. Thanks for reviewing, TakeThePRNDL, queenoftrouble, Ali6132, Sideshow Cellophane 26, blackangel365 (if you like light fluffy stuff, it's wrong, if you like dark gritty stuff, you've got it) and the guest reviewer.**

As my second month began, the time I spent with Mal increased to every day. He still hurt me, but more frequently now, three times a week, in fact. I'd still know when the end was coming, because he'd start whistling that tune, but that was never the end of the time we spent. On the days he didn't hurt me, I could enjoy talking to him, but on the other hand, I never felt quite at ease. There was still something in my subconscious telling me that there was something very wrong going on.

Mal knew that I was getting used to the pain, and he'd taken it up a bit, just by the things he would say. For example, he'd be performing some assault on my upper body, then he'd whisper in my ear "Don't act like you don't like it." The electricity between us ws crackling like crazy, and I couldn't ignore the feeling that I was starting to like being hurt. But Mal followed through on his promise to take things to the next step.

The day after he'd beaten me for the third time, he took me to our little room again, and simply said "It's time I take things further. You've been good for the last few weeks, apart from that minor incident..." his eyes drifted to the bandaged ankle. "And if I'm not mistaken," he added, "Your wrist should be fully healed next week." The one eye I could see lit up. "Which will make things more fun. Anyway,"

He went into the depths of the room, and pulled a dusty armchair out of the corner. "I put this here last week, because I knew this day was coming soon." He sat down in the chair. "Come sit with me, doll face."

I pulled an actual face at the name, grimacing. Where was I supposed to sit? Mal was lanky and looked like a matchstick, but that armchair was little and he took it up.

Mal's eyes darkened the tiniest bit. "I'm getting impatient, Bailey. You heard me."

"But...where am I supposed to sit?" I asked.

"Right here." Mal said, indicating his lap. I hesitantly walked over and obeyed, leaning back on one arm of the chair. Mal put his arms around me. Maybe it should've felt like he was imprisoning me, but for some reason, it felt...kind of affectionate.

"As I said, it's time to get to the next stage." he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. With that, he attached his lips to mine once again, and we kissed. The thought of stopping crossed my mind, but I wanted to keep my good ankle at full health, so I didn't resist. I didn't stop Mal when his lips went to my neck, and then below my ear, then my earlobe. He bit down on it, and I couldn't help a squeal.

Mal chuckled. "A little sensitive there? I suppose I now know what I should concentrate on next time."

For a short while, we just talked normally, although Mal was sometimes absent-mindedly moving his hands up and down. He kept them wrapped around me, close to him, but that meant he was basically using that as an excuse to literally feel me up.

"Creep." I muttered as one hand moved up, felt the wire of my bra, and moved down again.

"So you think I'm a creep?" Mal muttered into my ear. "Let's see if you'll still be saying that when I make you scream."

"I'm not scared of you hurting me any more." I said defiantly.

"Oh, I don't think it will hurt that much." Mal said calmly. "I'll most definitely wait at least two months. Maybe longer. When do you turn fifteen?"

"January. Two months after I leave."

"Such a shame." Mal said, "At least I will still be able to do it." He let me up, and whispered into my ear again. "I _will_ make you scream one day, and you _will_ love it."

That wasn't the strangest part of what happened that day, though. Just as I was leaving, I heard Mal gasp, and suddenly, I was turned around by him. His hair had spiked up, and I could see both his eyes. "Bailey, please stay away from-" he began to say, in a completely different voice, but then he gasped again, and his hair went back to normal.

"What was that?" I asked, bewildered.  
"Oh, nothing." Mal said nonchalantly. "You didn't know I could do a ton of different voices, did you? Here, check this out!" He spoke in the voice he'd just used a minute ago. "Hi! I'm a weird kid with weird hair and mental problems." Then he started to laugh, but it was his normal laugh this time.

I laughed with him, but nervously, wondering where that came from.

I didn't tell anyone about what happened, but I did tell Duncan about the voice. "I don't get it. He was telling me to stay away from something in a different voice, and then he just changed back and claimed it was something else."

Duncan shrugged. "I don't get Mal anyway. I mean, if I like causing trouble, he's dangerously addicted to it. He's never put on a different voice, though. I think he's just messing with you. Sorry it had to happen to you." While his voice was casual and sounded indifferent, his blue eyes held just a glimmer of sympathy. I knew he had some emotion in him, but all the same, it was a little weird to see him show it, even if it was only a tiny bit.

I ended up confiding in Scarlett about the voice, too. I still really didn't even like her, but I had to put up with her, and something about her just made me want to tell her. She smiled when I told her. "I suppose I should tell you now, shouldn't I?" she said. "I've been researching Mal, and I've found out he's been undergoing therapy. I need to find out more about it, but I am positive I know what his problem is, and the only way he would ever be able to leave this place."

"What is it?" I asked.

Scarlett shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bailey, but it's not my place to tell you the rest. If he wants you to know, he'll tell you."  
I glared at her. "Scarlett, you just told me a ton of stuff that doesn't make sense if you don't tell me what's wrong with him! Are you honestly just trying to be annoying and stupid?"

Scarlett almost scowled at this point. "I think you should let it go, Bailey." she said in a harsh tone. "I do not wish to lose my temper with you, but if you ever use the word 'stupid' to refer to me again, it would be beneficial for you to ask to be moved to a different cell."

It was a shock to see Scarlett actually get angry. I'd seen her irritated before, but not angry. It was actually a little frightening, this totally non-threatening thirteen-year-old suddenly becoming threatening.

I gave a sigh. "Look, I'm sorry, okay, Scarlett? I know you're smart. But you were annoying me. Can you really not tell me what's wrong with Mal?"

Scarlett appeared to calm down. "Not exactly. The Mal we know is a product of his past and mental disorders he's developed. But I can't tell you any more than that."

 **Well, that's left Bailey with a lot to think about. What do you think? Review!**


	9. Poem: What Leads To Juvenile Hall

**A/N: Hey everyone, guess what? I'm doing a poetry course next semester, and to get a headstart, I started writing a poem for this story. Yes, I just updated, but who cares? I'll write in the next chapter my acknowledgements to the reviewers of the previous chapter (and this poem), but please, read and enjoy!**

It's the strangest thing

To live inside these walls

I can never know

What goes on outside

It's like my life is going on

But I'm not in it

Because this is what vandalism leads to

There's someone in here

Who can sometimes make me smile

We're partners in crime

So to speak

Making trouble, pulling pranks

That's our favourite pastime

Because this is what arson has led to

Sometimes I like

To hang out with my cellmate

She's crazy, but smart

I'm a bit afraid of her

She wishes she weren't here

And won't come back when she's done

Because this is what assault has led to

The most frightening I know

Has a mental disorder

He's six people in one

And sadistic as hell

But when the throws me to the ground

I can fear for my life

Because this is what murder has led to

I'm not stuck here forever

I'll be going home soon

I miss my old home

And I miss being free

I even miss my sisters

Though they drive me insane

But I won't miss juvenile hall.

 **So, what did you think? Did it capture Bailey for you? I wrote it in like ten minutes. Please, keep reviewing, you guys!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Let's see what happens next! Thank you for reviewing, berkbar740, Ali6132 and queenoftrouble (2).**

My second month in juvie passed in much the same way as the first, except for one thing. As I grew tolerant of the beatings, Mal began to decrease the times he'd do that. But there was a trade-off. That first week, when he made me sit on his lap while he kissed me was the tip of the iceberg. Before he decreased the beatings, he spent other days letting his lips and/or tongue explore every inch of my face, ears and neck. He especially liked my earlobes, positively sucking on them, sometimes biting.

I didn't want to like any of it. Sometimes, I truly did hate it. The first time he tried to French kiss me by licking my lips while he kissed me, trying to poke his tongue between them, I instinctively pulled away.

I couldn't do that again, because he whispered to me "Fighting back again, doll face? Don't forget that you're just my plaything. I want to _play_ with you, and if you don't comply, I'll stop playing nice."

So when Mal tried to French kiss me again, I let him. And again, that first time at least, I hated it.

But what worried me was that I didn't always hate it. Some of the things that Mal did made me feel really good, and although he did have a tendency to be unecessarily forceful, I found I didn't mind.

After the second week of the month, Mal only hurt me once, and unlike the last few times, when he'd made me stand there in my bra and panties and let him attack everything else, he only wanted me to take my top off.

Then, the next day, he pushed me onto the floor on my back, and whispered "T-shirt off. Now." I took it off, and Mal straddled me, sitting on my upper legs and admiring my bruised stomach.

"You have no idea how much I want to do that to you again." Mal whispered. "I want to torture you so much. I want you to beg me to stop." He paused. "But there's so many other things I want to do more."

He leant his upper body down, almost lying on top of me. His weight pressed down on my bruises, and I let out a squeal of pain.

"Still a little bit sensitive, huh?" Mal whispered, now positioned so it was directly into my ear. "That's good. Accept the sensations...I want to know what you feel."

He ran his hands down my sides, and I shivered involuntarily. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not. But it didn't matter – it made me feel excited and tingly.

That month changed everything for me. I even felt different – like I wasn't just one of the crowd any more. I felt special, half in a good way, half in the worst way. Like I was what the internet called "cursed with awesome". Mal had picked me out, out of all the people in juvie. He'd chosen to test me, and liked what he saw. And as a result, he tortured me physically for weeks, telling me it was to make the pain feel good, and it worked.

In the middle of the month, I stubbed my toe when Scarlett had accidentally left one of her many books on the floor of the cell and I tripped, yet I felt nothing but a surge of energy. It was literally a struggle not to pick at my toe when it scabbed over. I kept telling myself how sick and disturbing it was to want to be hurt, but the sensation didn't become any less pleasurable. Near the end of the month, Mal did one of the regular beatings, promising it would be the last time, and I had to hold back from asking him to continue when he was done.

The other change was that the beatings were replaced with makeout sessions. Mal made it clear that it was a replacement, because he'd tell me that the only reason he did it more was because there were things he wanted to do to me that didn't involve physical pain. He never went too far – ie: I'd never taken off more than my T-shirt, although that didn't stop him touching me over the clothes. He did hurt me at times, but not intentionally – he would just be too forceful, and, at times, I scared myself by half-enjoying it. Often, he'd tell me in detail how much he wanted to cause me pain, but he would add every time that what he was doing was more fun.

I didn't need to be told that it was meant to be a secret. However, I knew that like most of the things Mal did, these secrets were too dangerous to be kept. A few times, Duncan let me tell him how scared I was, although he was pretty clear that things weren't going to get any better for me. But after I mentioned the words "make-out" and "kiss", he wouldn't let me get any further.

"That's way too weird for me to listen to, sister. You're on your own for that, as far as I'm concerned."

I wasn't offended. I counted Duncan as a friend, but he was still a guy, and no guy wanted to hear that kind of thing from a girl's perspective. Besides that, there was nothing he was going to do about it. If it had been someone else, I would've done the smart thing and just stayed out of Mal's way, too.

Scarlett, on the other hand, actually _wanted_ to hear what I had to say. She was still doing that psychological study thing and was, in my opinion, unnaturally obsessed.

I did hear the different voice from Mal, again, but only once. He'd been pinning me to the ground, having made me close my eyes and whispering to me to tell him whenever I felt a sensation from his touches. It was at the end of the third week of the month and he'd just started pressing and rubbing below my waist, and as much as I hated to admit it, it felt really good.

Suddenly, I felt him stop, and stand up, and I heard him gasp. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Are you all right?"

"What have I done?" I heard that different voice whisper. I opened my eyes, and stood up, seeing Mal's hair had gone back up, and I could see both of his eyes, devoid of their shadows. The boy faced me, and he spoke again in that voice. "Bailey, keep away from Ma..I mean, stay away from me. I'm dangerous!"

I rolled my eyes. "I know that much." But then I looked at him again. I paused. "You're not Mal all the time, are you?"

"I'm not Mal right now." the boy said. "I'm..." but he didn't finish. The dark shadows faded in, and the lock of hair fell over one eye. Mal was back.

"Stupid...ruining my..." I didn't hear everything he said, but those were some of the words he muttered. He looked back at me. "Back on the ground, doll face. I wasn't finished with you."

"Will you at least tell me what was going on there?" I ventured. "Who was I speaking to just then?"

"I don't have to answer your questions!" snapped Mal, sounding more irritated than I'd ever heard him before. Usually, even when he was annoyed with me, he kept a neutral tone as he delivered a threat. "You heard me. Now, I've never broken your face because I like it pretty, while the rest of you looks prettier when it's covered in my marks. But you know the rules – you obey me without question. If you hesitate again, I will _not_ hesitate when I break your cheekbone. Or how about I make it so you'll need to have your cast back on?" The cast for my wrist had been taken off, but my wrist had only just stopped becoming stiff.

I went back to the position I was in before. "Don't do it, please." I pleaded.

"Relax, doll face, I'm letting you off this time." Mal said. "Just make sure that I don't need to follow through on that, all right?"

But, as my third month in juvie approached, I couldn't help wondering what was going on. What was Mal's secret?  
 **We all know, but she doesn't. What do you think will happen next?**


	11. Chapter 10

**Here's what happened! Thanks for reviewing, LostRebel, berkbar740, Ali6132, queenoftrouble, and Sideshow Cellophane 26.**

I knew that Scarlett knew something about Mal that I didn't know, so I gave her the new information. "Now will you tell me what's up with him? He said he wasn't Mal right then, and then when he was back to normal, he muttered something about someone ruining something."

Scarlett surveyed me for a moment. Finally, she said "Since you've found out this much, I suppose there's no point in not explaining things. But you need to keep this secret. No one else in this place can know, and you can't tell him that you know, either."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop treating me like a little kid, Scarlett! Why the hell would I tell him I know something when I specifically asked him what happened and he wouldn't tell me? And who else would I tell? I only really talk to Duncan, and he wouldn't be interested."

Scarlett sighed. "All right, Bailey. Here it is; he suffers from Disassociative Identity Disorder."

I looked at her blankly.

"Mal is one of several personalities in the same person." Scarlett explained. "I don't know exactly how they developed, but you must have seen one of his other personalities."

I frowned. "So...why is he here, and not in a mental hospital?"

"They didn't deem him dangerous enough, for some reason." Scarlett said. "I don't know the specifics, but I know that he does have sessions with a psychiatrist who is trying to help him."

"Like that'll do any good." I scoffed, not really taking in what that meant. "Mal is the dominant personality, right? I saw _one_ other personality for, like, two seconds, and that's it."

Scarlett shook her head. "Dominant at the moment, only. Mal is one personality. He's not the original – he's more of an outlet for the original personality's feelings of resentment and hate...and desire and lust, it seems from what you tell me."

I frowned again. "So...who's the original personality? What is he like?"

"I don't know what he's like." Scarlett admitted. "What did he say to you again?"

"He told me to stay away from him, and that he was dangerous." I answered. "I think it must have been because he knew that Mal was going to come back, and that _he_ was dangerous."

Scarlett gave a nod. "That makes sense. I don't know his name, but I do know that he was a law-abiding citizen. If he regains control of himself, he will be released from juvie."

My third month in juvie began. Two thirds of my time was over, but my troubles were just beginning. There was no way Mal was going to leave me alone, and there was no way I was going to tell anyone to send me somewhere else just because of him. I had to prove he didn't get to me.

The only problem was, he was getting to me. On the first day of the month, he didn't tell me to take my T-shirt off. No, he pulled it off by force, reaching down to the collar and pulling. He was quite a bit taller than me, so it was easy. After he ordered me down to the usual position, he reached underneath me and unsnapped my bra.

"No!" I cried out. Mal clamped one hand over both of my breathing areas.

"I don't like to hear that word when I do something." he hissed. "And this is a warning. If you think you can't breathe now, you won't be breathing for a lot longer if you ever try to tell me no." He took his hand away.

"I didn't mean to say it." I tried to explain. "I meant-"

Mal stopped me with his deep chuckle. "You're just amazing, Bailey. You're proof that I'm really just as dangerous as everyone says. Look at yourself, trying desperately to explain yourself because I threatened you. Last month, you would have tried to get away. Either I'm worse than anyone thought, or you're more pathetic than I guessed."

Those words made me see red. "Call me pathetic one more time and I won't do this again." I hissed, pushing myself up and reaching for my bra and T-shirt.

Mal acted quickly. He caught both of my wrists in one hand, pushing them together painfully, and pressed his thumb to the tip of my left C-cup. Instinctively, I tried to pull away, but no matter what I did, he wouldn't let go. "Oh, Bailey." he sighed in mock pity. "Haven't you realized yet that threats don't work on me? Although not being able to do this to you is not exactly what I would like." He massaged the flesh he was touching, pressing, rubbing, moving it around. "Now tell me," he whispered, "How does it feel to you when I do this?" When I didn't answer straightaway, he lowered his head down to the right one, and bit down. "I asked you a question." he whispered when I let a whimper escape.

"Painful." I lied, but gasped when he twisted the right one. That sensation _was_ painful, and new enough so that I didn't welcome it.

"Stop lying." Mal murmured dangerously. "If you don't, maybe I won't be able to tell if you're telling the truth when you say you don't want any more broken limbs. Now tell me again, how does my hand on your boob feel?" He massaged it more, making the feeling I was getting become more intense.

"Good." I managed to gasp out.

"Right answer." Mal said, finally sounding less threatening.

That wasn't the last time he stripped everything from my top half. In fact, he did it for the rest of the week. In the second, he made me take off my jeans, too. And in the third week, he, for once, took off the blue T-shirt he always wore.

And every day, he wanted the same outcome. I didn't want to want more, but he was forcing me. Every time he did something new, he asked me how it felt. And only a few times did I really not like it – and when I didn't, Mal would find it amusing and do it a few more times, although he'd never do it another day.

On the topic of feeling things I didn't want to feel, I was forced to admit to myself that I had to be attracted to this crazy person. With his clothes, he just looked like a lamp post, tall and thin. But then I saw him without a shirt...and suddenly, he was a tanned masterpiece – ripped, with the most amazing muscle I'd ever seen on someone so skinny.

And slowly, so slowly I barely realized it, I was starting to fall for him.

 **Uh-oh, Bailey. What will happen next? Stay tuned to find out!**


	12. Chapter 11

**Okay, so let's see what's going on. Thanks for reviewing, Ali6132, Daisy-is-Lazy (don't give up hope just yet...) and queenoftrouble.**

By the time three months in juvie had gone by, I had trained myself not to feel surprised at anything Mal did. I had to survive him, and by doing that, it meant I had to respond correctly, and do as he said. I hated feeling that powerless, but I couldn't help it that he brought me physical pleasure. But this left nothing else for me, Bailey, to be. Mal just wanted me to be his little toy, and now I was. There was no free time I could spend doing things I wanted to do, and in every thought I had, he lurked in my mind.

"What is _up_ with you?" Duncan asked me one day. "This time last month, we were both figuring out ways to pull stuff on everyone else. Now, whenever I say anything, you never answer. What's going on?"

I gave a sigh, and said "You want the truth? I'm doing two things. Trying to figure out Mal, and trying to think of ways to torture him without any repercussions."

"Forget it, Bailey." Duncan said. "Doing anything to Mal would be suicide. What, he hasn't gotten bored of playing his mind games with you yet?"

"Worse." I told him. "You didn't want to know, remember?"

"Right, and I still don't. But the way you're acting is starting to freak me out. So skip the details, but tell me what's really going on."

I quickly related what had been going on. "Remember how you said if you were as twisted as he was, you wouldn't kill a girl because there was more fun to be had with her? I think he's working up to that. And worse..." I had to blink rapidly to stop myself from showing too much emotion. "I kind of _like_ the way he makes me feel."

This conversation didn't do anything good for our friendship. I'm pretty sure Duncan wished he'd never asked, because neither of us ever brought it up again.

It wasn't until the fifth day of my fourth month that one of Mal's other personalities showed up again. And this time, it was for longer. It was the same one that had spoken to me before. I could tell by the spiked up hair and the voice.

The personality approached me during recreational time, the time when Mal would usually claim me. "Bailey, right?" he said, in that same light voice, with a hint of nervousness. "I don't know how much time I have, so I have to say this now."

"Wait a second." I said firmly. "You're not Mal, are you? I know you have DID, and you're one of his other personalities. Before you tell me anything else, I want your real name."

"It's Mike. I'm the first personality, the original one." the personality said. "Point is, I'm trying to fight Mal. I'm getting stronger gradually, but right now, I can't take control, except occasionally, for less than ten minutes at a time. _I'm_ the one that should be in control, since I was here first! The thing is, Bailey, I think you have something to do with it."

"Me?"

"I know what Mal is doing to you, and trust me, I hate it as much as you." Mike told me. "But that's what makes me stronger. The worse things Mal does, the more determined I am to get rid of him, and the stronger I feel. I feel awful asking you this, but-"

"I need to let Mal do what he likes with me, because it'll put you in control?" I guessed, scowling. "Look, kid, I'm sorry about your mental state, but I'm the major victim here! I'm not going to comply with everything just because it'll make things easier for you!"

"But you already are." Mike pointed out. "Please, Bailey, support me? I know Mal is going too far with everything he does to you, but just try to let him be as terrible as he wants. I feel as if the next time he breaks something, that'll be my time." And at that moment, he gasped, and his hair fell back down. I turned away.

"Not happy to see me, doll face?" Mal spoke. He took hold of my hand. "Guess we'll have to change that."

He was in a more vicious mood than usual today, much rougher than usual, and that was saying something. He said nothing about Mike, but I had the feeling he knew what was going on.

I confided in Scarlett about the conversation I'd had with Mike. "So that would make him the original personality." she mused. "I need to find a way to speak to him, too."

"Mike says that the crueler Mal is, the easier he finds it to become the one in control. So good luck with that."

Scarlett smiled darkly. "I have my ways of making things happen."

Coincidentally, the very next day, she told me "I didn't manage to hang on to him for very long, but Mike got through Mal when I demanded to speak to him."

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"They are complete opposites." Scarlett said simply. "I figured out what would make Mike desperate to get out, and he did. According to what he said, he can only see some of what's going on around him when Mal is in control – the one in control can choose what to show the other personalities. Mike knows who you are, because Mal let him see you a few times." She paused. "He said that Mal thinks of you as a doll."

I huffed. "He would." I muttered. "No wonder he thinks he can tell me what to do."

"Mike also wants to help you, but he feels that the only thing that will get him out for good is if the things Mal lets him see give him the willpower to break free. He doesn't want you to get hurt, but he also thinks it's the only way to get out."

I groaned. "Things are only going to get worse, you know. I can't comply with this stuff forever. Who knows what will happen to me? I've got just a week under three months left here. Mal could do just about anything to me in that time!"

Scarlett nodded. "Just before Mal came back, Mike told me what his guesses are about what Mal plans to do to you for the rest of your time here. He said Mal wouldn't tell him anything straight out, but hints are enough. From what you've told me, it sounds as if he just wants to go further, so that you will eventually have no control over what he does. That you'll want everything he inflicts on you." She looked at me sympathetically. "It's so unfair, really. I don't think Mal should be targeting someone like you. At least, if it was me, I'd be able to get things on level ground."

 **Yes, that was a Mal/Scarlett hint. I don't know if that'll be a thing in this fic, but here's hoping. Please leave a review!**


	13. Chapter 12

**Right, let's keep moving. Thanks for reviewing, Sideshow Cellophane 26, Ali6132, queenoftrouble, bloodylilcorpse and Katie Grimm.**

 **WARNING: There is a passage that has some sexual mentions near the end of the chapter. It's not very detailed, but just a heads up. It's also important to the story. I didn't want to rate this M, due to the lack of detail, but just a warning, as I know there are people reading this who will want to be warned.**

Right in the middle of my fourth month was when it happened. It was the first time that Mal forced me to strip completely. "And don't go too slowly." he ordered. "It's not a striptease – I'm an impatient person."

I'd known the day was coming when he'd want me to take off all of my clothes, but how was I meant to react? And what did he mean, not too slowly? Was I meant to set a record in how short a time it took to take my clothes off?

Most of my bruises had healed by that time, since he'd stopped doing everything, but I could see Mal still took a perverse satisfaction in looking at me. "Mine." he murmured. "All mine..."

I fought not to block my ears or look away. I had to show that he wasn't going to break me.

Apart from that, things happened the same way. He didn't actually touch anything he hadn't touched before, not that first time, anyway.

But that Saturday, I was visited by someone I didn't expect – my sister Lucy.

"How did you get in?" I asked bluntly. "You're only twelve!"

Lucy laughed. "Do I _look_ twelve right now?" She was tall for her age, and she'd clearly put on enough makeup to look like a small adult. "Oh, by the way, I've finished most of your makeup supply."

"Why are you here?"I said. "Aren't you happy to have no one around to stop you from taking my stuff?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucy said seriously. "I kind of miss you, sis. Even Mom and Dad miss you. Sophie wanted to come, but there's no way they'd let an eight-year-old in."

"Wait...I missed her birthday, didn't I?" I exclaimed. "I can't believe it! Time basically stands still in here. I'm forgetting what the outside world looks like!"

Lucy giggled. "Well, I actually did sneak something in from the outside." The glass partition had a little section under it, and she slid in...my MP3. "I put another few tracks on it, by the way." she said. "I've been using it, but I figured you could use it more. So," her eyes lit up, "Tell me about it. Who do you hang out with here?"

"There's only a few people." I told her. "I have a cellmate. Her name's Scarlett, and she's thirteen. But she's said a few times that she never wants to come back once she's finished doing time – she attacked some guy who was annoying her, she said. When I'm out, I usually hang out with Duncan – he's the same age as me, and he's been in here a few times."  
"What for?" Lucy asked.

I shrugged. "Stuff. His parents are cops, but they didn't let him off when he set his school's tool shed on fire."

"Oh, an arsonist." Lucy said casually. "Isn't there anyone normal in here?"

"Would they _be_ here if they were normal?" I asked. "Duncan is pretty much the 'normal' standard here. Scarlett's on the scale of boring, and trust me, one of the other boys is way off the scale on the other side – like, he's psychotic." I was careful not to mention Mal by name, and to be purposely vague. I wasn't having my little sister go home with the knowledge that I'd submitted to a creep with DID (and yes, I knew Mal wasn't the original personality, but who said Mike was an okay guy).

It was only later when I realized the coincidence between my situation and Lucy's visit. Mainly one of the new songs on my MP3. I listened to mostly punk rock – Paramore and that, but this was really different. Creepy, even. The song, I read, was called "Liar" by Emilie Autumn. The music was creepy enough, but the lyrics...they were something else!

" _I want to hold you to the sun, I want to be your faithful one_

 _I want to show you all the beauty you don't even know you hold_

 _I'm hurting you for your own good, I'd die for you, you know I would..."_ I felt like I was listening to a female alto voice telling me exactly what Mal would say to me. Let me give you pretty much the whole subtext of what he would say

Mal wants me to belong to him.

He likes my face flawless, but thinks the rest of me is more beautiful with bruises and marks.

He hurt me because he wanted me to enjoy his rough treatment.

He wants to own me, mind, body and soul.

He won't answer my questions truthfully, if he answers them at all.

Am I suffering? He wants my suffering, he wants my beautiful suffering, he wants to see my pain.

And yes, that last one was almost a direct quote, just with a change in pronouns.

There was a particular part that creeped me out. That was in a part when the singer just asked over and over " _Are you suffering? Are you suffering?"_ Why yes, I am suffering, thank you. But her voice became husky, in such a way that she sounded like an animal. It happened again after the fourth " _I want your beautiful suffering",_ when she continued " _I want it, I WANT IT!"_

That afternoon, when Mal sought me out and decided to strip me himself instead of making me do it, all that I could hear was the song echoing in my ears. I didn't even feel anything.

"I asked you a question, doll face." Finally, Mal's voice filtered into my ears. "Do you like it when I press against you like this?" His shirt was off, and sure enough, he was pressed against me.

"Yes." I choked out.

Mal moved away. His face was darkly amused at the reactions he was getting out of me. "Now tell me," he said, "What were you thinking about that was so intriguing that you forgot that I'd be talking to you every step of the way when we do this?"

"Um...well..." I stammered, "I guess I was thinking of...well, you. There's this song I heard, earlier today. And some of the lines...you've said similar things to me."

Mal seemed interested. "Like?"

"Like hurting me for my own good. And wanting to have me. And wanting to see my sensitivity."

I wish I'd never mentioned it, because Mal's one eye had a dark look to it. "Yes. Speaking of which, there was something I wanted to try today."

He pulled me to sit on his lap, legs well spread. "I thought you should see what I'm doing." he explained. And then he reached forward, and hand was on my most sensitive area for the first time, just trying to find what I liked.

"You just love those feelings I'm giving you, don't you?" Mal whispered into my ear. "You want to hate it, but you can't. You can't stand it that I know exactly how to please you, can you? You want it to be someone else, but you have to face it. It's me you want, now, isn't it? You hate to feel that way, but it's true. And I think it's time we made it official." His hand stopped moving around, and a burning sensation shot through me as he stabbed a finger into my sacred place.

"From now on, you will not call me by name unless we are around other people." Mal murmured into my ear. "I own you, and you will address me as Master. You are not to do _anything_ of this nature with anyone else unless I give you permission, or if I tell you to. You are now my slave, got it?"

The pain was starting to lessen, and I wanted more, but I knew I wouldn't get anything until I answered. And I didn't want to answer to that. There was no way I'd be a slave to anyone, in any way.

"Still a little disobedient, hmm?" Mal whispered. He removed his fingers, and I let out an involuntary whine. "If you want it, you reply to me."

I was beaten. What was the point in fighting back? Once I was out of here, I could move on – I'd probably never see him again. "Yes, Master." I mumbled in a lackluster tone.

Mal plunged back into me, this time adding another finger. "My baby girl slave likes this, doesn't she?"

"Yes, Master." I repeated, this time having to hold back a cry in order to answer.

"In that case, since you've decided to be a good girl and answer me, I'll finish you off."

Only minutes later, my breathing quickened, and something squirted from the place his finger was in. As he removed it, I leaned back against him, and he wrapped his arms around my frame until I stopped trembling.

"What..." I murmured. "What was..."

"That is the first of many times you're going to reach that point." Mal said softly. "From now on, you're going to do a lot more, instead of just being like a blow-up doll. If you're good, I might be inclined to reward you in that way a few more times."

I hated what he was saying. And I especially hated that this crazy, psychopathic creature was starting to make me think of him with adjectives like _sexy, hot, passionate..._ whatever he'd done to me, it was making me like him far too much.

 **What did you think?**


	14. Chapter 13

**I am starting to feel sorry for Bailey. This is not a good space she's in. Thanks for reviewing, queenoftrouble (I can't tell if that's positive or negative), Daisy-is-Lazy (glad you still like it), Ali6132 (sorry about the explicit stuff...I actually got to the same song from a _Dark Knight_ fanfic while I was on holiday in LA a few years back), Sideshow Cellophane 26 (Ikr?), Sanity is for Suckers, Katie Grimm (well, he hasn't actually done that yet – in fact, he hasn't actually stripped completely himself) and bloodylilcorpse (I think every reader was...heck, I was, and I wrote it). **

**A warning from now on: There will be some low-level mature mentions throughout the next few chapters, mainly just mentioned fingering and oral. You've been warned.**

I started to throw myself into everything in my life that didn't involve Mal. I didn't want to think about him when I didn't have to, and for the most part, it worked.

I was back to pulling stuff on people with Duncan, which was always the most fun I had. I stopped talking about Mal to Scarlett, unless she insisted. Luckily, she seemed to read my feelings and rarely pressed me to talk about him.

As for the time when I was with Mal...well, I followed his rules to the letter. I tried to keep my mind off what I was doing the whole time, but it was hard to do. I had to keep doing things like singing lyrics in my head as I did whatever he'd told me to do. I didn't have to do much, really – he loved it when I could do nothing but lay there, helpless to his touch. But he'd been making me give him pleasure too. The first time, he said I could just use my hands, but after that, he always demanded my mouth. "And I'm not going to do anything for you if you don't get it right."

Over the course of the two weeks leading up to two-thirds of my time being over, Mal only thought I deserved to be "rewarded" five times. But every time he brought me to that peak, I could do nothing but resolve to try hard to please him again, so that he'd repeat that as soon as possible.

Even when he was doing that, he liked to tease me as much as possible first. The next time he'd done it, he'd made me say it. "If you want it, then ask me nicely."

"I did everything already!" I whined as cutely as possible. "I thought this was supposed to be for me!"

"I'm not in the most generous of moods today." Mal said firmly. "Ask me for it, and you'll get your reward. Don't, and I'll let you stay unsatisfied." He smirked. "Or how about I push you just a little bit towards it and then stop just before you're done?"

I sighed. "Please, please, Master...put it in me." I begged.

"You can do better than that." Mal stated. "What should I put in? A dagger?" He laughed. "Tell me what you want me to put in you, pet."

I cringed when he called me that, but I managed to stammer out "Your fingers." in a whisper. My face grew hot – I hated doing this. I felt like a slut – never before would I have ever asked a guy to do this to me.

And the four times after that, he, again, made me beg for it. No wonder I couldn't stand to think of it, and tried to keep busy just to make sure I didn't think of it when it wasn't happening. To be honest, I wanted to talk to Mike again. The problem was, I didn't know how to talk to him without letting Mal know I'd seen him.

There was only one option I could think of. One evening, when I was in the cell, I asked the question. "Hey, Scarlett?"

"Yes, Bailey?" Scarlett answered, glancing up from the book she'd been reading. She looked a little bit annoyed that she'd been interrupted, but curious about my question.

"You know how you talked to Mike last month?" I said. "Is there a way I can get him to come out without letting Mal know I've talked to him before?"

Scarlett thought about this. It felt like an eternity before she answered. "Well, all you have to do is work out exactly what would give Mike the incentive to retake control. He's the opposite of Mal."

"Mal loves to torture people and make them suffer." I said. "He's ruthless and rough."

"Exactly." Scarlett answered. "And as it follows, Mike is considerate and gentle, and he likes making people happy. Generally, he's like any fourteen-year-old boy in history, if just that little bit more sensitive and kind."

I couldn't help pulling a sarcastic face. "Wow, he sounds boring. But in that case, incentive for Mike would be to have him know that he's causing harm."

Luckily, something happened the next day to help take my mind off the dilemma. A girl whose name I didn't remember came up to me just before breakfast the next day, and said "Rumours are flying about you, queen of sequins!"

"What?" I didn't know what she meant.

"Word has it that you're a hit with the guys." the girl explained. "Someone totally likes you."

The only thing I could reply was "Who?"

The girl shrugged. "I forget. I don't know most of the guys' names. Some multiple felony punk with coloured hair."

My heart jumped – mostly from fear. _Duncan_? I mean, sure, he'd made it clear he thought I wasn't that bad-looking, but he'd also said he preferred girls who were a bit more different to him than I was. But more importantly, if the girls knew, did _Mal_ know? And if he did know, what would he do?

And the most pressing issue – did I feel the same way? I liked Duncan platonically, sure. And he was kind of cute, in a weird way. Cool hair, nice eyes, a great smile, muscular but not beefy, taller than me but not too tall...yeah. But then, that was one of the reasons I couldn't bring myself to despise Mal completely for what he did to me – because as much as I hated to admit it, he was kind of hot.

But when I said I was falling for him...no, it wasn't Mal I was falling for. It was the way he made me feel that I was falling for. When I faced the facts, I was not into the guy who'd been taking over my life. I was in no hurry to give up those feelings, and he was the only way I could get them. But if I wasn't falling for Mal, did I have my own crush on the guy who'd kept the rest of my time in juvie from being Boredom Central?

I looked back at the girl. "Is there anything else you should tell me?"

The girl laughed. "What else could I tell you? No one died for you, if that's what you're asking. Why, you got a crush on a different guy?"

I sighed. "Not exactly. I just have this fling with one..." I cut myself off, remembering how Duncan had refused to listen to me talk about Mal, but had been pretty concerned when I hadn't been acting like myself and even asked questions.

I sat with Duncan at breakfast, as usual, and we just acted as we always did, teasing each other and talking about random funny things on either side, like one of the boys had _somehow_ lost their towel, and the newest new girl had done her kiss, but then slapped the boy, making like it was the other way around.

"Hey," I asked, "Do you guys have an initiation thing too?"

"Nah." Duncan said. "The chicks in here are all in an overarching clique, and everyone wants to be accepted. We don't have to be bothered, because we don't _want_ friends – we just want out." He knew I was going to ask a question, and read my expression. "Okay, I'll admit that I kind of broke the first rule of juvie by letting you befriend me, but it's true what you kept saying. This is the most boring place in the world unless someone livens things up. Having someone to talk to definitely helps. And I won't deny, the eye candy's a bonus, too." He winked teasingly, and I giggled.

Why did that make me feel like a girly-girl? Did I have a crush on him?

And...to be honest...was that girl right? Did _he_ have a crush on _me_?

 **This chapter is for berkbar740, who pretty much suggested Duncan/Bailey. Please review!**


	15. Chapter 14

**Now, let's see what happens next. Thank you for reviewing, queenoftrouble (Baican...sounds waaayyy too much like bacon to me..but Duncley sounds too much like a certain canon couple..), berkbar740, Bloodylilcorpse, AvrilLavigneFan2001, Sideshow Cellophane 26, Ali6132 (boys don't change from that age on – I ended up having a discussion about that on Facebook last night), Katie Grimm (I update my other stories when I don't update this one) and the guest reviewer.**

I still didn't know how to bring Mike out to talk to me, however. But for once, fate decided to throw me a bone.

Yet again, I got to talk to Mike, and this time, he was around for longer than usual. He approached me one morning. He still had a really anxious expression, and his eyes were wide with fear.

"Hey, Bailey." he said softly.

"Mike?" I looked up at him. "I wanted to talk to you. Do you know how much has been going on?"

Mike gave a sigh. "I can only see what Mal wants me to see. I don't know how much time passes. When did I last speak to you?"

"Just under a month ago." I replied. "What have you seen since?"

Mike's tan skin reddened. "Well..." he managed to say, "I saw him make you...um, strip. And making you do, um, things..."

"I get the picture." I interrupted. "So...you didn't see him trying to make me submissive towards whatever he does? Like, I have to acknowledge him as my master and be his slave?"

"What?!" Mike sounded genuinely angry for the first time. His dark eyes burned. "Mal is going to pay for this."

"When do you come out?" I asked.

"What usually gets me out is when Mal is too tired to remember to keep me in." Mike answered. "Or when he's just done something especially harmful, because I can't stand it when he does that. I only just started being able to come out when he met you. Since then, he's gotten weaker." He suddenly froze up, but then relaxed, still Mike. "He's trying to come back." he whispered. "You should go. He's already suspicious when he comes back and finds you standing nearby, and I _can't_ let him find out I've talked to you."

"Wait, Mike!" I said quickly. "Is there any way you can think of to get you back in control?"

Mike managed to stay for a few more seconds as he answered "I just need a few more moments of weakness and that'll be enough to slip through. I just need my other...uh...personalities to help me. Now go – don't let Mal know I talked to you!"

I turned to run, just as I heard him gasp again, knowing that this time, Mike couldn't hold Mal off for any longer. And I thought I was safe, really. I mean, he didn't call after me or anything, so I figured he hadn't seen me.

Yeah. Fate had already been nice to me once, by letting me speak to Mike , so I couldn't expect to catch another break in the same day. Mal sought me out that afternoon. But once we were in our room, he didn't instantly order me to strip. Instead, he slammed me against the wall, keeping me pinned there.  
"What the hell?" I managed to choke out, seeing his eyes burn with anger.

"Tell me, why did I see you running away from me today when I hadn't said a word to you?" Mal said, his dark voice more sinister than usual.  
"What?"

Mal slammed me against the wall again. "Perhaps I should rephrase it. What has Mike been saying to you?"

My eyes widened. "How did you-"

"It doesn't take a genius to know that he was telling you to leave because I was about to be back. I knew there was something strange going on almost a month ago when I was suddenly standing next to you, yet I didn't remember moving there!" Mal scowled. "Now tell me, what has he been saying?"

I couldn't think of a good lie. I decided to just say a few things – not everything. "He said that he wants to be in control, that he's the original, and that he hates seeing you hurt me. That's all, I swear!" I paused. "And... Scarlett told me that there's more than two of you, that you have Dissassociative Identity Disorder. Please, I haven't done anything!"

Mal didn't move. "I know you haven't." he muttered darkly. "Mike's always trying to ruin my fun. You're simply the right girl in the wrong place at the wrong time." He met my eyes. "Sorry, doll face, but things have changed, now that you know about me. I can't just find someone else to have fun with once you're gone. Looks like your sentence has been extended to life inprisonment." He chuckled. "Actually, it's better this way. I guess it means we're gonna be together forever." He leant down to whisper into my ear "And won't that be fun?"

Finally, he let me go from the wall.

"Okay," he said, pulling his shirt off. "Now get stripping. You have nothing to do today – I've got a ton of things to do to you instead."

That was the first day he decided to give me oral. I'd already done it for him, and I soon realized why he ordered it from me so much – it felt incredible. If what I did felt as good as what he did to me, I definitely got why he wanted me to do it most of the time.

After he was done, he crawled up, so that his face was directly opposite mine. "You taste purer than I imagined. Still sweet, though." he commented openly.

"I'm so glad you liked it." I muttered sarcastically, coming out of my pleasure-induced daze.

"And I'm sure you would've, too..." Mal gripped both sides of my face and kissed me, releasing a strange taste into my mouth, like sweetened water.

"Like the way you taste?" Mal smirked. "I certainly thought it tasted good."

I shrugged. Disagreeing wouldn't get me anywhere, but I'd be lying if I agreed. It wasn't bad – but to think where it came from made me feel nauseous.

Mal didn't seem to mind me being non-committal. "You'll learn." he said, his tone neutral. "You'll have to, now."

"So..." I ventured, "What happens when I get out of here?"

Mal put his shirt back on. "You don't." he said shortly. "There's no way I can get out, so nor can you."  
"And why do I have to be with you?" I asked.

"I _told_ you why. You've spoken to Mike. You know far too much about me. If I was to let you go, who's to say you won't tell anyone else about it? Why not? I don't take a person's word on keeping a secret." I realized that he didn't have a true reason. He was just using my knowledge as another way to control me.

It was a relief that evening, to go and hang out with Duncan again. Ever since one of the girls had told me that he had a crush on me, I'd been watching him more closely, and starting to realize my own feelings.

Duncan was on the "fun" end of a scale of juvenile delinquents, while Mal was right at the end of the "dangerous" end. And I realized that, no matter what Mal made me feel, if I had to kiss one of them again, I'd pick Duncan every time. He was fun, funny, hot, and easier to get along with than you'd think, considering his tough act.

He was exactly my type. I hated submitting to Mal. But I had to admit, if I imagined Duncan in his place, teasing me verbally and sometimes reassuring me, while still making me do as he said...I would show more willing.

And I think that's when I realized it. I wasn't falling for Mal! I wanted the sensations he gave me, sure, but I didn't want him to be the one to give me those sensations. If I could get them from someone who actually felt affection for me, someone who would listen to my feelings, I would do it.

Duncan was my type. If only he had been the one that said he wanted to make me scream. I hoped it was true, that he had a crush on me. I definitely had one on him.

 **There you go! Bailey is finally sorting out her mixed feelings. Hope you liked the chapter!**


	16. Chapter 15

**And...well...let's see what comes next! Thanks for reviewing, AvrilLavigneFan2001, queenoftrouble, Ali6132, Katie Grimm, Bloodylilcorpse, Sideshow Cellophane 26, Starburst278, and Elizabeth Life Stone.**

As my fifth month in juvie began to pass, my established crush on Duncan grew. When Mal "rewarded me", Duncan would come into my mind, and I'd imagine him doing what Mal was doing to me. I had to keep these thoughts hidden from Mal, though. If he knew what I was thinking, I wouldn't be the only one to pay the price.

I couldn't stop these thoughts from coming in. Ever since the girl had told me that Duncan may have had a crush on me, I couldn't help thinking of him romantically, and romantically became sexually, because let's face it, he _was_ very attractive. I still spent my free time around him, and we still laughed at the same things, and pulled pranks, and teased each other, but there was those underlying thoughts lingering in my mind. All of them were questions: _Does he really like me? Why can't I stop thinking about him now? Is there a way to tell him? Should I tell him at all? What if Mal finds out that I like him?_

That last question was what stopped me from saying anything. But I found myself, once again, confiding to the only person that could give me advice.

"I can tell that there's something troubling you." Scarlett said one evening, looking up from whatever book she was reading. "I would like to know what it is. Maybe I could help you."

I gave a sigh. "Mal, again. What else? I wish he would just leave me alone."

"But Mal's been fixated on you for the last few months." Scarlett persisted. "What else is wrong?" She paused. "Has Mal been...inappropriate?"

"You could say that." I mumbled. "But the problem is there's this other person I like."

Scarlett chuckled. "Well, that was obvious." I looked at her seriously. "Come on! You thought I couldn't tell that you had a mutual infatuation with the boy you've been conversing with since your first day here? I may be younger than you, Bailey, but I'm not naive. Personally, I was wondering why neither of you made a move. You both want to be with each other."

I gave a sigh. "First, if Mal found out I liked him, both of us would get hurt. Second, how do I tell someone that I like them without just being straight about it?"

Scarlett laughed. "I know someone who says you should do it in class. Write a note and start passing it. The teacher catches the note-passing while it's happening and reads it out."

I sighed. "No good. Mal's in the same class as me."

Scarlett smirked. "Tell you what. Because you're my cellmate and I'm interested in Mal, I'll try to keep him busy during mealtimes, while you start dropping hints. Your friend's not stupid, he'll catch on rather quickly, I should imagine."

And Scarlett kept her word. I didn't quite flirt with Duncan, exactly, but I acted a bit more flirty, just to see if I got a reaction. I didn't have to wait long – he caught on pretty quickly. It wasn't in what he said, but more of the expression on his face. His blue eyes would focus on me, and he'd have this little grin on his face, very much enjoying what he was looking at. All I had to do was 'accidentally' let the neckline of my T-shirt dip more than usual, or just moving in such a way that it showed off my...um, assets, and that grin would appear.

It was on the third day that he acted – was I a fast worker, or what? Mal took me off to do our usual...er, activities...in between lunch and dinner, so it was only during the hours of recreation after dinner and before we were sent back to our cells that it happened. Five minutes after we were allowed out of the cafeteria, Duncan and I were on a sofa in a dim room.

"I know you like me." Duncan finally said, straight to the point. "But trust me," he grinned, "You didn't have to go to huge lengths to get my attention."

I folded my arms. "Well, how else would I be able to work out if _you_ liked _me_ or not?" I teased. "Besides, you didn't seem to mind."

"How could I not like it when a hot chick is practically throwing herself at me?" Duncan smirked at me. "So, if I was to tell you what the deal was, you would stop doing that?"

I considered. "Hmm...I would tone it down." I decided. "It depends. If you don't want me, I'd stop because you don't want the many other girls to think you're taken. If you do like me, I'd make sure we'd have loads of alone time so that I can throw myself at you without everyone else watching."

"I guess I should tell you what I think, then." Duncan laughed. I waited, nerves invading my veins. How should I react? If he didn't like me that way, how would I ever face him again? Would I lose my only friend?

And if he did like me, I'd have to explain that we could only act like a couple in private, because Mal had expressed that I wasn't allowed to be a couple with anyone else.

Finally, Duncan answered the burning question. "I'll admit, I thought it was pretty weird at first, because as I told you, I like fiesty girls who'll fight with me." he said. "But although you've never actually argued with me, you _are_ fiesty. And it helps that you aren't bad to look at, either." He grinned. "And if nothing else, you're not bad at kissing. If you wanted to do it again, maybe I'd let you."

I pouted playfully. _"Maybe_ you would _?_ What kind of a statement is that? What you mean to say is-" I checked no one was watching, then stretched up to kiss him on the lips. This time, it was better than the first kiss, when I'd just met him. It was amazing.

"You _will_ let me." I finished, giggling. It was the first time I'd laughed properly for ages.

Duncan laughed with me. Then he became a little more serious. "So you're up for it? You wanna give this boyfriend-girlfriend thing a shot?"

"Why not?" I shrugged. "How long have you got left in here?"

"Six weeks. This time at least. You?"  
"Seven weeks." I sighed. "You wanna still hang out after we get outta here?"

"Sure. Why not?" Duncan shrugged, still cool, still calm.

There was a pause.

Finally, I grinned. "So. What happens next?"

Duncan answered by pulling me into another kiss, which became a French kiss, which became a makeout session. I kept an eye on the door the whole time, but not even Mal could ruin this for me.

 **Oh, can't he? Bailey better watch her back. If Mal finds out what she's doing, both of them will pay. I wish Bailey good luck on it. Also, Scarlett saying she knows someone who mentions that note passing in class...that's a direct reference to one of Sky's confessionals.**

 **Also, I put a TD-focused poll on my profile! Please vote!**


	17. Chapter 16

**So...what happens next? Thank you for reviewing, berkbar740, Elizabeth Life Stone, Katie Grimm, Bloodylilcorpse, Ali6132 and the guest reviewer.**

I told Duncan a couple of days after we became a couple that I was breaking a rule. "I'm scared of what will happen if he finds out." I confessed. "He says he's the only one allowed to do that to me. But it makes me all the more happy to do stuff with you when he's not around."

Duncan just shrugged. "Whatever. It's not like he's going to come across us doing anything, right? If it doesn't become a problem, cool. If it does, it does."

"Easy for you to say." I muttered. "I'm the one who'll get hurt."

"If you're hurt, then I'm a dead man." Duncan said lightly. "I know Mal a little better than you do. Yeah, it's serious. But there's no point in not doing fun stuff because it's risky."

I laughed. "Hell yeah to that! We wouldn't be in here otherwise, right?"

Being in a real relationship was like my regular friendship with Duncan and the feelings of pleasure that I got from Mal in one, but better. I could say no if I wanted to and be listened to, and I was okay to take things quickly without actually going the whole way.

"I'd rather wait." I explained, about three weeks after we started dating, and had already gotten to third base. "I'm not ready yet. And I'm not going to be ready until I'm fifteen."

Duncan seemed cool with that. "Just because I'm a criminal, I wouldn't do that to you, babe. You're not exactly a prude in any other way." That made me blush and him chuckle. "Hey, I like that."

"I don't always let you do what you want!" I argued. "I-"

"Yeah, I know." Duncan said with a smirk. "But I like it better when you want me to do whatever it is. Never knew that screamers were the most fun."

"Ugh!" I playfully slapped him. "Has anyone told you that you are way too sexually interested for your age?"

"Interesting insult." Duncan chuckled. "Never heard that one before, actually. But seriously, don't act like _you're_ not."

It was kind of true. If nothing else, Duncan was much better than Mal. Sometimes, he was just as rough, but other days, he was so much gentler than I would've thought was possible for him. I liked that variety, but mainly because he did seem to care about that kind of thing being mutual. Like if he wanted to do something to me that he would enjoy, I'd have to enjoy it without being forced to.

As it was, Mal still insisted on owning me for at least an hour a day. One of the benefits of having someone to make out with whenever I felt like it, though, was that I didn't need to be 'rewarded'. I stopped begging to be touched. That was okay. What wasn't was that Mal noticed.

"What's _happened_ to you, doll face?" he asked in frustration. "You just won't do as you're told properly any more. What's wrong with you?"

I cast my eyes to the floor. "I prefer doing things to you." I lied in a low voice.

"Funny." Mal said in a mockingly thoughtful voice. "I think I prefer doing things to you too, my little slave-girl." I blushed in embarrassment when he called me that. He smirked. "You're so easily shocked. I could do a lot more to you if I wanted."

But then, the fifth month was over, and only one month left in juvie remained. I was counting down the days, not sure whether I would be able to leave or not. Mal said I couldn't, but I was counting on the law to let me go.

Exactly four weeks before my sentence ended, Mike came out, for longer than usual. "How are you?" he asked me.

I scowled at him. "Oh, I don't know. Your psycho personality wants me to be here forever and hurts me on a daily basis. How would you feel, Mike? Tell me."

Mike scowled right back at me. "You think it's easy for _me_? I've had to deal with Mal for most of my life! I don't want to be in juvie any more than you do, and most of the time, I'm trapped in my mind. I could be doing about a thousand things right now, if he wasn't..." he paused, and then appeared to calm down. "I'm sorry about that, Bailey. Even being out here is taking up a lot of energy, even with my other personalities trying to keep Mal in."

I gave a sigh. "I'm sorry too, but everything he puts me through is harsh. So...you mentioned other personalities. How many do you have, besides you?"

"Five, including Mal." Mike answered. "Even if I can subdue Mal permanently...which I think I'll be able to do soon...the others will probably come out when they feel like it. I mean, I can sometimes control some of them, because I know what triggers them, but others just come out whenever and won't listen to me when I try to keep them in."

I couldn't help a little smirk. "That's what Disassociative Identity Disorder is." I pointed out. "Tough break." I paused. "Do you let Mal see anything when you talk to me?"

"Of course not!" Mike said, looking appalled. "Why would you think that I'd do that? He guessed that I'd been talking to you, Bailey, I didn't let him know anything! We share a headspace, but we can't read each other's thoughts."

"Chill." I told him. "I didn't mean to imply that you were the one who let him know you'd been talking to me. But now that he knows, I just wanted to make sure you hid _what_ we were talking about."

Mike nodded. "One more thing, Bailey. A warning – Mal knows I'm getting stronger. So before I get out – don't do anything to anger him."

I frowned. "What?"

"I can get out on my own in time." Mike said. "I'll tell you when I'm properly out – I mean, Mal can imitate my voice pretty well, but you can tell because I don't have marks underneath my eyes – but until I've gotten Mal completely unable to get out, keep him happy. He's on edge because he knows that soon enough, I'll be the one in control, most of the time. When he's alone, he can talk to me in our mind, and he just loves to tell me what he really wants to do to you. If you get him mad, he'll do worse than he's already done. I'm warning you for your safety, Bailey."

I nodded. "Well, I think you better stop talking to me. What if Mal finds out I've been talking to you again?"

"Yeah." Mike agreed readily. "I guess you're right. And since I don't know how long I can take control for...I hope I'll see you later."

I heaved a sigh, hoping Mike was right – that he'd be able to lock Mal away in his mind soon. Before my sentence ended. I didn't want to stay in here any longer than I had to. Duncan was leaving a week before me, and Scarlett had mentioned that she was due to leave in a few days. I couldn't stay in here with a psychopath, and no one to make me smile or confide in.

 **I'm not planning in making this story as long as some of my others, so there's probably not too many chapters to go, especially as Bailey's time in juvie is alnost over. But don't worry, there will be more to come after that!**


	18. Chapter 17

**Right...Scarlett's going...time for a new cellmate! And a character that we all know pretty well by now...I hope I captured her energy and tendency to talk a mile a minute! Thanks for reviewing, Katie Grimm, Bloodylilcorpse, queen of trouble, Ali6132, and the guest reviewers. Let's try to get the reviews up to 100 before this story is over!**

When the day came that Scarlett was due to be released, she was unusually friendly. "Farewell, Bailey." she said politely. "In spite of our differences, I'm glad you were my cellmate for the majority of my duration in there."

"Keep working on the psychology, girl." I teased. "I just know that I'm going to see your name on textbooks in a few years. Probably with Professor or Doctor as your title."

Scarlett smiled. "You know, I think I might actually miss you." She took my hands in hers for a moment, although she dropped them quickly. "Goodbye."

I got a new cellmate only two days after that, and suprisingly, it was the same girl who had been here earlier, but had been moved. I still recognized the girl because I'd dubbed her "Scarlett gone crazy".

"Weren't you somewhere else?" I asked her.

"Oh yes, but it was, like, really overcrowded and things got really crazy, and so many people were leaving here at this time and more people were coming in so they moved me back here!" the girl said. She spoke very quickly, so I could barely follow her. "So what's your name? I'm Izzy!"

"I'm Bailey." I answered, starting to smile. Izzy seemed like fun. "What you in for?"

"Oh, I kind of blew up a kitchen accidentally, and the RCMP has been on my tail, for, like, months!" Izzy grinned manically. "I haven't been able to pay them off, so I've been running for ages and I've had to stay in forests and forage and stuff. I'm trying to find a way to get money, like maybe I should go onto one of those reality shows, I'd so totally win!"

"Okaaaayyy..." I said. I was right, in a way – Izzy was nothing like Scarlett, except for her green eyes and red hair, but she was crazy. In any case, I liked her. And although she'd been a first-time prisoner, it was in the middle of her time, so I didn't have to choose a boy to dare her to kiss him.

Even better, Izzy may have been nuts, but she was one of the friendliest people I'd ever met. I could barely believe that she'd been sent to juvie for such huge vandalism as blowing things up, to the point of being tracked by the Royal Canadian Mountain Police (although, when she started babbling about being abducted by aliens or hiking in the Australian outback and learning to cook koala of all creatures, I started doubting half of what she said). I sat with her for meals a few times, although I still spent as much free time as possible with Duncan.

"I guess, once you're gone, I'll have to stick with her." I sighed, one day when we were alone in the computer room.

"Well, as long as I don't see her lip gloss on your sequins..." Duncan teased, leaning in to kiss me. I kissed back, and then broke away to whisper "I wish we were allowed to share a cell."

Duncan suddenly smirked. "You know, I'd try to sneak you in, if it wasn't against the rules, you know, with my release date so close."

"And since when have the rules stopped you?"

"I'm more worried about my cellmate, to be honest. I can't get away with anything with him watching."

I gave a sigh. "And I'd totally sneak you in to mine, but nice as Izzy is, I can't trust that she won't tell. She talks all the time – even if she didn't mean to tell, it would probably come out." We had to resign to the fact that when we made out, the only way to safely touch each other would be to slide our hands underneath our clothes, since we couldn't risk someone walking in on us, and we couldn't lock any doors. I could've maybe suggested the room Mal used for me, but that was just asking for trouble. At least one of us would be dead if Mal was the one to walk in on us.

As for the time I spent with Mal...well, it lessened. I guessed that Mike was coming out more frequently, and cutting into recreation time, so I stayed away from him unless he came to me first. Mike had taken my warning and not tried to approach me if he was out at all. But Mal only got rougher, more vicious, more demanding. It was true – he seemed to be on edge.

I wasn't sure if this was better or worse...but if I closed my eyes and tried to disconnect myself, I could imagine Duncan being the one with me. Instead of hearing Mal's orders or whispers, calling me degrading synonyms for "slave girl", I'd imagined that I was hearing Duncan teasing me about how I reacted, or telling me I was driving him crazy when I wouldn't quite get far enough for him to get to the point we both wanted, or whispering things into my ear that got me hot. It got to be a struggle to remember to call Mal "Master" and not accidentally call him by the wrong name.

That's why I was grateful for the distraction that was my new cellmate. Izzy, nice as she was, was far from normal. One night, she hung from her wardrobe rack and slept like a bat. Another time, she slept like Pippi Longstocking and put her feet on the pillow, with her head under the covers. Most of the time, when she slept in a regular position, she'd usually sleep-bark, or sleep-yowl. I'd be innocently sleeping soundly, then I'd suddenly be woken up by what sounded like two cats brawling outside, but no, it was just Izzy. All the same, I liked her a lot better than Scarlett. I couldn't talk to her like I could with Scarlett, but I could be myself around her.

All the same, I did have some problems. The day she started singing "The Song That Never Ends" and still hadn't stopped after four hours, I finally snapped "Either shut up, or I'll do it for you! Trust me, you don't want the second."

Izzy stopped, and said cheerfully "Oh yeah? Bring it on!"

I scowled and said "What's the fun in doing it when you expect it?"

"Tough luck, sister! Izzy can expect things for a long time – by the time I've stopped, you'll have forgotten!"

I gave her a weird look. "Why are you talking in third person?"

"Cause I can, of course!" Izzy laughed. Sometimes I wasn't sure whether to be scared of her, or to enjoy her company.

 **Fans? What do you think – would you like to hang out with Izzy? Stay tuned!**


	19. Chapter 18

**So, it's coming down to the end of Bailey's time. Thanks for reviewing, Ali6132, queenoftrouble, The Radioactive Cupcake, Katie Grimm (which version? I've read the books and watched the live-action one), Daisy-is-Lazy (100th reviewer! Congratulations!), Bloodylilcorpse, Lindsay's bestie and Sideshow Cellophane 26.**

Duncan and I had an extra-long, extra-passionate makeout session the day before his release date. We exchanged cellphone numbers. "Call me, babe." he grinned.

I laughed. "Okay, are you going to be one of those guys who refuses to seem too keen on a girl so that she always has to do the running?"

"Well, I _could_ be tempted not to be..." Duncan began, "If you buy on our first real date."

I shoved him playfully. "Go on, get out of here, you jerk. Maybe I'll call you when I get out."

And then the day came. It was three days before I was supposed to be out, and Mal was waiting until the last minute to find a way to keep me in. Meanwhile, he was still making me do...stuff every day, and without Duncan around, it was increasingly hard not to think of him too much, to the point where I could almost convince myself it was him, not Mal.

So there I was, lying on the floor, Mal having decided to "reward" me using as many fingers as he could fit this time. He'd managed four before, but this time, he was trying to get his whole hand in.

But suddenly, just as I thought I was about to be finished, he pulled his hand out and pinned my wrists to the ground, hovering over me, his dark eyes burning. "What did you just call me?" he hissed dangerously.

"I...I...I don't know!" I stammered out.

"Fine, then, I'll tell you." Mal scowled darkly. "You just called me by the name of someone who recently left, which proves that you were, in fact, attracted to someone else. I warned you, Bailey Cherry Young." He'd never used my full name before – I wasn't even sure how he knew it – and it sounded terrifying in the darkest of dark tones he'd taken on. "Tell me, how far did you get with him? Don't lie, I know you did."

Had I really done it? Had I said Duncan's name in my daze? I thought back, and suddenly recounted it. Yes, I'd said it – and Mal had caught it. I was done for now – at least Duncan would get off free.

"Third base." I muttered quietly.

Mal's voice was quiet too, but much more threatening. "You disobeyed me. I warned you that you were not, under any circumstances, to do anything with anyone else. I don't care whether it was consensual, if you were dared to do it, or if someone tried to attack you. You are never to disobey me, understand? You are mine, no one else's."

"Yes, Master." I muttered, knowing that's what he wanted to hear.

"But, it seems my little slave girl only said what she thought I wanted to hear, because she didn't _listen_ to me. Because she didn't do what I told her. Maybe I need to teach her a lesson in obedience. Or maybe I just need to show her how to _clean up her act_." He paused. "But it would take too long to find a good shower for that. What would be a good alternative?" He paused, chuckling darkly. "Oh, I know. I haven't found a good way to mark what's mine yet. Maybe I just need to _make_ her mine, this very minute."

I knew what that phrase meant. I'd read it. I knew what was coming.

"Don't do it, please!" I begged. "I'll do anything, just don't do it!"

"Too late, doll face." Mal said, a smirk all over his face. "You must have been breaking that rule for some time, if you managed to get that far with him." He gave a sigh. "If you had gotten any further, it would have spoilt everything, and in that case, I'd probably have to kill you. I hate to have to do that – I don't like it when pretty things die. However, on the other hand..." he smirked, looking over my bare form. "You're a pretty little toy, and toys are meant to be broken." He slowly started taking off all the clothes he was still wearing, shedding them achingly slowly, just to torture me more, I guessed.

"Now why don't you just listen to me properly, this time?" Mal said in a tone that faked being a suggestion, when I knew it was an order. "I've got quite a few positions in mind."

There was only one thing that could save me now. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing that could do a thing. I stared straight into Mal's eyes, and screamed out the words.

"Mike, can you hear me? HELP! Mal's going to...he's going to...you have to come out and stop him!"

Mal merely chuckled. "Mike can't hear you, doll face. I've blocked him off. Nothing is going to save you now."

I had no options left. I simply closed my eyes and did as Mal told me, trying to block it off. I couldn't imagine it was Duncan, this time. Jerk he may have been sometimes, but he wouldn't have made me do something I wasn't ready for. I held back tears, as-

"You've gone too far this time, Mal!" The weight was suddenly lifted off me, and I opened my eyes to see the figure attacking himself. That was Mike's voice! What was going on?

I could only watch, looking around to see if I could risk getting dressed. After ten minutes of watching the boy fight, he looked up at me, and immediately looked away. "Sorry." he mumbled. "I mean..."

"Mike?" I asked carefully, studying him. The dark marks (ha! Dark Mark, get it? _Harry Potter_ reference) around his eyes were gone, and his hair was spiked up again, and he was speaking in the right voice.

"Yes, it's me." he confirmed. "And I think I've done it! If you hadn't called out, Bailey, I wouldn't have known anything about what was going on. Mal's gone – for good, I hope." He still didn't look at me. "Uh...would you mind getting dressed?"

"Oh! Um, sorry." I said, and proceeded to dress.

 **You've probably guessed where this going. But this story isn't over til' it's over! And this was just the climax!**


	20. Chapter 19

**Okay, let's continue! Thanks for reviewing, Daisy-is-Lazy, Bloodylilcorpse, Katie Grimm (well, the books are all short stories that are connected by Pippi being the focus), Ali6132 (Yes, that one always makes me cry at the end), and queenoftrouble (I've got a question at the end of this chapter pertaining to that).**

With Mike being back in control, the last few days of my time in juvie were fairly peaceful. I talked to Mike often, and I even got to speak to his other personalities – all of them, at least once. I wasn't too impressed with Chester, the old man, or Vito, the Jersey Shore guy who complained that he couldn't get a tan if he was stuck inside, but in the exercise yard, I got to meet Svetlana, Mike's only female personality, an expert Russian gymnast. And although Mike was reluctant after I'd met those three, I persuaded him to put on a fedora, his trigger for Manitoba Smith, a Steve Irwin rip-off (you know, Australian explorer) with a tendency to flirt. He backed off pretty easily when I told him I had a boyfriend, though.

Mike was up for release soon, though, since he was no longer deemed a threat to the general public, once he'd talked to his psychiatrist. He also explained to me what had been happening in that crucial moment.

"I couldn't see what was going on, but then I heard faint screaming, screaming my name. I only realized late that you were calling out. I figured out what Mal was doing – he'd hinted at it enough times – and it gave me the willpower to break out. My other personalities helped me lock him away – I know you probably didn't see it, but we had some serious conversations in my mind." He sighed happily. "I owe a lot to you, Bailey. Now I can finally go back to school and actually live my life the way I want to."

"You and four others." I teased. Mike gave a sigh. I chuckled. "Hey, better them being in control some of the time then you hardly ever being in control. I mean, you're you most of the time, right? And you know how to keep Manitoba and Vito in – just keep a shirt on and don't wear a fedora."

I decided I'd keep in touch with Mike, just in case. On my last day, I also gave Izzy my email address and SmartPhone number, just in case she got out and wanted to keep in touch.

In spite of being at home again, it was as if I'd never been to juvie. I soon forgot the novelty. Back to buying makeup to replace the stuff Lucy had taken (the only makeup she'd left in my stash was one lone eyeliner pencil and some purple lipstick), back to putting up a wall to pretend my parents didn't hate me, back to Sophie whining at me to play dolls or Monopoly with her every hour.

At least I had an escape. I wasn't going to do the fireworks trick again, but that didn't mean the graffiti artist in me was gone. I didn't tag my art with a cherry any more, but I wrote other things. Stuff like _I like to play with you_ and _I dare you to kiss the next guy you see_. If nothing else, juvie had given me some weird ideas.

Sometimes, Duncan and I did graffiti together. We didn't live far away from each other, although we went to different schools (he'd been expelled a few times from several and was going to one further away. He had actually been at my school for a short time – but he was in the year above me, so I didn't know him at the time), so we both enjoyed tagging whatever. Duncan usually just tagged a skull (or carved one, if the surface was wooden), but I still favoured words. Once or twice, though, I tagged a cherry in the skull's mouth.

Most of the time, though, when we hung out, we had a lot of different things to do. We snuck into R16 horror movies, pulled a few tricks, and more than once, made out on a deserted beach during the sunset (that was my idea, to do something cliché). And boy was I glad Mike had come back before Mal could do what he'd planned, because after a few months, I decided I was ready to give up my virginity, and it was worth it.

Although, I'm glad my parents never discovered that. I can just imagine what they would've come out with – they had made it clear that they didn't approve of me seeing anyone I'd met in juvie.

Duncan did do some more time in juvie. We only dated for eight months, but broke up after Duncan admitted he'd met another girl who he was interested in (although they didn't date or anything until after he told me). But I understood – he was a hot guy, and girls were probably all over him. We still remained – in fact we _are –_ friendly with each other, and we still hung out when we had nothing better to do – just making trouble, or seeing a movie or whatever. I never regretted him being my first kiss, or first lover.

But after his second stint, just after I turned sixteen, he told me "My mom and dad say I have to stay out of trouble for a while, or I'll probably end up in real jail within a couple years, so I've found another way to have fun."

I frowned. "So?"

"Just letting you know that I won't see you much this summer." Duncan answered. "Didn't you know about that new reality show starting?"

I paused. "Wait a second...you mean the one called Total Drama Island? With that guy who's so desperate for fame he'll do any job?"

"Chris McLean? Yeah, that's the one." Duncan said, with a grin. "I haven't got anything better to do, and it's a chance to win a hundred grand. I made an audition tape, and they accepted me! The show's been airing parts of audition tapes to advertise since."

That was true. I remembered one in particular where some nerdy looking girl practically broke windows when she sang, then a voice asked her what the "racket" was.

Then she faced the camera, and said in a very serious voice " _One day, I'm gonna be a star. You'll see. They'll all see."_

"So can I see your audition tape?" I asked. "Do you have a copy of it?"

Duncan had had to upload it onto a computer to put it on a DVD, so he did show me. He appeared to be abseiling down the wall of juvie as he talked in it. " _Hey, Duncan here, but then you probably know me since I'm somewhat of a local celebrity around these parts. Yeah, photographers are taking my picture all the time. It's because of my charm and good looks, and the fact that I live in a big house with tons of security cameras and guard dogs. If I had to pick my best quality, I'd say I'm resourceful. Yeah, I'm pretty quick on my feet..."_ At that moment, you could hear barking and sirens, and searchlights were everywhere. " _Well, it's been nice chatting with ya, but I really gotta run."_

I laughed. "Seriously? You're a 'local celebrity'?"

"Hey, my picture is in the newspapers, isn't it?" Duncan pointed out. "You better be watching when the show starts."

"Of course!" I teased. "How could I not watch you embarrass yourself?"

 **Yep, they're both sixteen, and Total Drama is starting! I'm not sure, but I think the next chapter might be the last.**

 **Now, for an announcement: Would you like to see me write Bailey into Total Drama All-Stars?**

 **Should she get back with Duncan?**

 **Why would Chris choose to bring a newbie into All-Stars, and which team would she be on?**

 **Finally, there is an ending chapter coming up next. At the same time, I'll post the All-Stars story for Bailey, similar to what I did with "All-Star Amethyst".**


	21. Epilogue

**So this is the original ending I wrote for Bailey. Part of it would be the ending to this story, but halfway down is the ending if I was not going to do All-Stars. There will be a warning in the chapter where it cuts off and becomes an alternate ending, instead of the sequel.**

 **Oh, and yes, I do reference the movie _Anastasia,_ or at least, the villain song "In The Dark Of The Night". Someone did a video on YouTube with the song and Mal, and it inspired me.**

 **Thanks to queenoftrouble (I've made a plan of everything for each chapter...warning: I'm fixing the elimination order and a few other things) and the guest reviewer (the first chapter is up).**

The reality show was okay, to be honest. In fact, I spotted two familiar faces. Duncan was on there, but so was Izzy. Now I remembered her mentioning that she wanted to be on a reality show.

I soon got to know the other cast members. I liked Gwen, the moody goth girl, and Leshawna, the tough African-Canadian girl – you know, token that I would've been if I'd auditioned – but I hated that snobby prom queen Heather, and her totally brainless sidekick Lindsay. I kind of liked Geoff, too, the dim but sweet guy who seemed to enjoy pulling pranks just as much as Duncan and I did – in fact, he and Duncan pulled a lot of things on nerdy Harold on their team (Duncan was on the Killer Bass, Izzy was on the Screaming Gophers). I still rooted for Duncan, of course.

Izzy lasted the first eight episodes, but then the RCMP helicopter swooped down to arrest her at the elimination ceremony that night.

"You mean all that trash you were talking was true?" Leshawna cried, remembering how Izzy had mentioned it.

"No." Izzy told her brightly. "Just the RCMP part. See ya." Then she stood up and screamed "YOU'LL NEVER GET ME ALIVE!" Then she tore off, laughing like the loon she was. Later on, she came back, but only made it as far as the final seven.

Duncan lasted longer, making it to the final four, and we even got to see a video message from home to him – his dad actually wondered whether he loved his son ("Well, the boy's a criminal!"), but his mom obviously did ("That hair piece is what's criminal"). Then Heather and Gwen, the last two girls, won immunity and voted him off for being more of a threat than the other boy, a lovable chubby (to put it lightly) guy called Owen, who ended up winning the season.

Of course, Total Drama didn't stop there. I didn't see Duncan again until after the second season, Total Drama Action, was over. And boy did I have a lot to talk to him about.

"So..."I said, "Are you still dating the preppy chick?" Oh yeah, I forgot to mention Courtney.

As I mentioned, Duncan and I broke up earlier, so I didn't really care that he'd started dating again, but this was the first time I realized what he said was true – girls who argued with him were a turn-on. Even so, I wasn't sure what he saw in preppy, bossy competitive Courtney. She'd been okay in the first season, I guess. She spent most of it denying that she had anything for Duncan, even after the team spent a night in the woods, and in the morning, they were cuddled up together. There was a confessional where you could hear Leshawna yelling at Courtney from outside while she said she would never be with Duncan about five times in different ways. And then they kissed, Courtney was voted off, and she called back that she'd never forget him.

She originally didn't qualify for Total Drama Action, but sued her way back in. She and Duncan were on/off the whole time. They broke up when he eventually voted her off, but then, at the finale, Duncan won and Courtney immediately came back to him. Yes, you heard me, he won.

"We're together." Duncan confirmed. "For now, at least."

"What do you _see_ in her?" I asked.

"She's hot. And has a strong personality. I told you I like girls who'll argue with me."

And then came Total Drama World Tour, which involved every competitor singing in each episode. Duncan actually quit in the first episode and disappeared for some time, until Courtney and Gwen found him in London. Then he kissed Gwen in the confessional.

That was what shocked me. I never thought of Duncan as perfect, and sure, I didn't know why he'd dated Courtney, but kissing Gwen while they were still together? What's more, only Gwen seemed to feel guilty, going on about how she'd betrayed Courtney and that if it happened again, she'd confess.

She didn't get the chance – the newbies of the season found out before her. There were two of them. Sierra was a fan of the show who was unnaturally obsessed with geeky Cody, and she claimed that Duncan and Gwen had had a crush on each other for ages. " _There's a whole fanbase dedicated to Gwuncan! I wonder if this year, a new fanbase will start for Siody...no, no...Coderra!"_

The other newbie was Alejandro, and I personally couldn't stand him. Sure, he was gorgeous to look at, but was it really necessary to manipulate two thirds of a team into getting kicked off? And then work on Courtney when she was at her weakest. It was almost a relief when I watched the finale, when Heather beat him, using the fact that he'd fallen for her against him.

But enough about that. I actually got to meet Gwen, since after the third season, the original cast finally got a break, and everyone got to chill out. A new group of teenagers went in. Obviously, since Duncan was still dating Gwen, I asked if I could meet her, and she turned out to be a bit more distant than she was on TV...but then she had only just met me. I carefully avoided mention of the show (although I did mention that I thought she should've won the first season – she was in the final two), and instead made pointless small talk.

As a matter of fact, Duncan and Gwen had a relationship that was almost identical to the one I had with Duncan, teasing each other and joking around. The only difference was that Gwen wasn't quite as into causing trouble.

But then the fourth season started, and another familiar face showed up. The redhead standing next to him nudged him, asking "Can you believe we're here?"

"Yeah, it's beautiful..." my ex-tormentor murmured, staring at her dreamily. Before my eyes, Total Drama Revenge of The Island had accepted Multiple Mike onto their show. What's more, everyone's audition tape had been leaked, and Mike's one claimed that he was going against his psychiatrist's orders. At least, he seemed okay, that season. Sure, Vito caused a lot of trouble by coming onto that shallow Jersey Shore girl Anne Maria, but he still managed to snag the girl of his dreams, sweet selfless (if totally bland) Zoey. As it turned out, she became Mike's trigger. If she was put in danger when he was someone else, Mike would take control and immediately go to save her.

 **(A/N: This is where the ending would be, allowing the upcoming sequel. The next part is alternate. You have been warned.)**

Then Duncan was called back again. So were Gwen (and Courtney). "I'm only going because Gwen's going." Duncan confided to me.

Later on, when I talked to Gwen, she said "I want to make up with Courtney. I feel so bad about the way things went down, and I know she's probably still mad at me, but we were so close to becoming real friends. I felt so alone after that – I mean, yes, I was probably closest to Leshawna, but I hated feeling that someone who was more alike to me than I realized hated me so much."

"Well," I said lightly, "The editing on the show doesn't show her in a good light, but if you can see the good in her, who am I to tell you not to make amends?" Gwen was probably a better person than Duncan or I, but that didn't stop her from being placed on the Villains' team, with a mix of contestants from both the old and new cast.

And that's where the problems started.

Mike was on the team of Heroes, since he'd shown himself to be heroic and considerate on the show before. Then dirt boy Scott accidentally hit him on the head one day, and at the elimination ceremony, I saw it.

" _One by one, they will all fall._ "

"Huh? Did you say something, Mike?" Zoey asked him innocently.

"No, just sitting here." Mike replied, seemingly oblivious of what was happening.

I didn't know what to think. Mike had said that Mal was locked away for good. But he was starting to come back, episode by episode. I started to fear for Zoey's wellbeing. Sure, even when Mal gained full control, locking Mike up in his mind, he was still nice to Zoey, putting on an act and pretending to be Mike, only manipulating people behind the scenes, but who knew what he was doing when the cameras weren't on him? I couldn't enjoy Gwen and Courtney making up, or feel sympathetic when Gwen dumped Duncan (to be fair, he was being a jerk and becoming obsessed with Courtney again), or feel anything when Alejandro got his revenge on Heather. And then Mal also tried to kill Cameron, the winner of the last season and one of Mike's closest friends. It got worse. In episode 12, he tried to crush Gwen with a pile of debris and made Scott shark bait to Fang, a mutant shark who Scott had made an enemy of in the previous season. And then, he was up against Zoey in the finale. She finally discovered he'd been Mal for a long time and told him to drop the act. Then he tried to drown her during the challenge.

And I knew, I just knew, that if Mal won and came back, he wouldn't have forgotten me. In fact, I was sure there was one confessional that mentioned me. I wasn't sure, but he'd been talking about how he'd use the prize money to live in a tower overlooking a volcano, like a real villain. "And of course, I'd have my sweet slave-girl by my side, willing to do everything, just for me. Not that silly little redhead Mike calls a girlfriend – what does he see in her? No – I know where to find her, and when I do, she'll never escape me again." He'd called me his slave-girl, back in juvie. That's why I was worried when he said that. Was he talking about me?

A line from a movie that was ripping off Disney ran through my head: " _My curse made each of them pay, but one little girl got away..."_

The image of the villain twisted, and the words changed in my head as I imagined Mal again. " _Little Bailey, beware, Mal's back and awake..."_

It was a huge relief to see Mike retaking control at the end, and I could finally laugh when that jerkwad of a host Chris hated all the love going on (besides Mike and Zoey, the helpers were Alejandro and Heather who had started dating, and Cameron and Gwen – just friends, but when everyone else started kissing, Gwen kissed Cameron on the cheek) and only managed to stop it by giving the helpers a chance to win. Alejandro instantly let go of Heather and both of them went back to fighting.

And then, the second half of the fifth season had newbies – and that's when I finally saw my cellmate. What was _going_ on? First it's Duncan and Izzy, then Mike, and now Scarlett? Was I next?

Anyway, Scarlett had said it was unwise to annoy her, but it wasn't until I saw the tenth episode when I realized what she'd meant. I had known Scarlett all that time, but I'd never seen her flip the way she did. If she didn't deactivate the island's self-destruct, everyone left on the island – zombie boy Shawn, athlete Sky, insufferable pageant queen Sugar, awesome Aborigine Jasmine, and pathetic-excuse-for-a-villain Max – would explode with it. But did she care? No! If she didn't get the million dollars, she'd escape and let the island explode.

Okay, well, maybe I would've flipped if I had Max tagging along with me, treating me as his sidekick, but you should've seen Scarlett's reveal. She was at the control room, and Max comes in and is all "Enough nonsense, sidekick! Step away."

Scarlett spoke very softly at first, as she reached for her glasses. "I. Am. Not. Your. SIDEKICK!" As she said the last word, she turned around. Her glasses were off and her hair went all spiky, the way it always did when she took it out of her bun. Even Max knew that meant trouble. And for the first time, I saw Scarlett's true colours.

"This is the real me!" she said. "The Scarlett that I've kept hidden until now. Biding my time, waiting to strike...I am EVIL! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Was I glad she'd never flipped like that while we were in juvie. But what she'd told me she'd done to get into juvie...that moment was what made it believable.

Thankfully, although she trapped the contestants in a roomful of attacking robots, Shawn went into zombie-killing mode and demolished them, and then Sky got Max to use one of them to trick Scarlett into opening the door, when Max's only brilliant idea was that "someone think of something". Sugar hogtied Scarlett, Jasmine suggested the code, and Sky deactivated the self-destruct.

To be honest, all Total Drama really made me do was rethink juvie. Maybe I was luckier than Duncan. Yes, Mal had nearly taken away something I valued, and had destroyed my dignity for a short time, but still. To think, he could have tried to drown me, like he did to Zoey. Or the other things that happened, had I been on the show, instead of him. Heather could've pulled one of her mean tricks on me, Courtney could've killed me in a challenge just to win, Alejandro could've tried to break my heart, heck, Scarlett could have tried to murder me! And all for money. I was just glad I'd never met Heather, Courtney or Alejandro in real life. Now, I better get back to keeping the cops off my back. I'm nearly eighteen and legible to be tried as an adult. I've cleaned up my act some, but that just means leaving the graffiti I do for a couple of weeks before cleaning if off again. It stops anyone from reporting it before it's gone, since most of the ghetto people just think it's cool.

Anyway, let's end this insane story with one last sentence, courtesy of a quote from one of my good friends: "Told you I was a villain!"

 **And yes, that's the original ending! Hope you liked this story. As for me, it would make me really happy if you just left me one last little review.**

 **And on that note, I want to thank everyone who gave me support on this story. This has been one of the most popular stories I've ever written! You guys are fantastic, so thank you SO much. It means a lot to me that you took the time to let me know what you were thinking about this.**

 **And if you liked this story, PLEASE check out "Centre Of Attention", my Scott/OC story, which features Duncan as the leader of a teenage criminal gang.**

 **Now, to read part 2 of "Please Bail Out Bailey" - "Bailey In Exile", go to my profile page...**


End file.
